A Neurodivergent Sunrise

Every day has it's sweet spot.  A fleeting instant that catches your eye and your breath at the same time.  An ordinary moment that feels like a miracle.  The problem is that most of us are too busy or absorbed in the difficulties of every day life, that we miss them.  But this morning, I caught it, and I'd like to share.

Before I continue, I'm compelled to say that I often wonder how many people have similar moments, and don't share them?  Maybe out of fear of judgement or shame for finding something so ordinary breathtaking?  That's why I keep most of these to myself.  In my head, I hear the voice of a well-meaning relative saying "she has too much time on her hands".  It was in response to a little family update letter I had sent with a Christmas card 19 years ago. As a new mom, I felt like I finally had something important enough to talk about, and wasted no time in doing so.  But that statement eliminated the joy of my intentions, and repeats in my head whenever I want to write about things like this.

Now back to the point.

This morning, I caught the day's sweet spot.  It was uncharacteristically quiet in the house.  The animals, kids, and hubby were all sound asleep.  I stood at the kitchen window, waiting for my cup of coffee to finish brewing, and that's when I saw it.  The orangey-yellow sunrise shedding light on the glittery frost that covered every single surface of the backyard.  I didn't see the grass in need of mowing, or the trellis that fell over in a windstorm that needs to be fixed.  I saw sweetness and simplicity and calm and home.  My home.  Imperfect, disordered, and slightly damaged, yet beautiful.

I snapped a picture, and wondered quietly if it would actually capture the scene as my mind did.  (Spoiler alert: of course it didn't.)  My breath caught, unable to pass the lump in my throat. My eyes welled slightly with tears.  It was the peace in those few minutes that hit me square in the jaw.  

As with all things, time marched on and I was pulled back to reality.  I poured creamer in my coffee, and took another peak out the window to try to recapture the magic.  It was gone, and so I went about the rest of my morning.  Business as usual.

I'm posting this not to sound like some philosophical 21st century Thoreau-type suburbanite on a journey of enlightenment.  If you know me in real life, you know that's hardly my vibe.  (Bitch, I'm just trying to get through each day!)  I'm writing this because surely I'm not the only person who is blown away by mundane things?!?  I can't be. So I guess you could say this is my attempt at normalizing our shared weirdness by exposing mine.

Hi, my name is Trish, and sometimes the sunrise and a messy backyard heals my soul a little.