The Sunrise & The Alligator

The crisp fall-like air wrapped its arms around him, hugging him as he pulled his bike over to watch the sunrise.  The sound of the wind whistling past his head and the puff of his breathe went quiet.  He stopped. The only sound he could hear was the lapping of water against the shoreline.  It reminded him of a cat drinking milk.  He pulled  off the Natchez Trace Parkway — no sense getting hit by a rusty Camaro, he thought.  He then took a drink from his water bottle and pulled a peanut butter sandwich out of his jersey pocket. It was time for the daily main event.

The dark purple of the sky started to lose its daily tug-of-war with the dawn. Purple gave way to red and then gave way to orange which gave way to hints of yellow.  The water must have approved ; it copied the sunrise’s colors on its inky surface.  A slight breeze greeted him — the breeze was the sunrise’s advance guard.

He looked out into the water for his old friend.  And there he was, like clockwork, waiting.  Judging by the size of his head, the alligator must have been ten feet long.  The bike rider did not know for sure, but that was OK.  He had a deal with the gator: The rider stayed on the land. And the gator stayed in the water.  But he was there. Everyday. Reminding the rider that death was close at hand. He reached under his bright yellow jersey and felt his cancer scar.  It was a scar worthy of an alligator bite.  The rider saluted the gator who just floated there, staring.

The orange ball rose slowly above the far shoreline.  Like the alligator, it was the cyclist’s reminder of the miracle of the day. A fresh start. A new chance.  The light illuminated the alligator’s massive head. Life and death greeted each other there in the Ross Barnett Reservoir.  And that’s why the cyclist stopped here each morning.  To remind him of how precious life really was.  He smiled, finished his sandwich and continued to peddle his way north.  He had miles to travel. He had a life to live.

The alligator watched his breakfast ride away.  Maybe tomorrow, he thought with his pea brain. Maybe tomorrow.