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I have to wake up around 4:30am every morning as I start work at 6:30 (thanks to the demands of one of our highest-profile clients). It’s a hard slog, seeing as I generally don’t crawl into bed before 11pm and fall asleep around midnight.
It’s a hard gig. God knows I’ve never been a morning person, always having been more of a creature that loves the dark blanket of night, but there are some advantages to being up before the sun is. The early morning silence is something I find to be both beautiful and comforting, and despite how many times I’ve seen this transition now, seeing the deep darkness of night transition through to the velvety blue of the blue hour, and finally watching the first light of morning rising on the horizon and reaching through the sky.
Sometimes I watch the sleepy commuters who accompany me on the morning train, wondering who they are, what they do and where they are going. Sometimes I’m one of the sleepy commuters, with arms crossed, and head against the window whilst my body desperately clings to sleep for another half an hour.
And then, occasionally, I’ll see something so spectacular that it takes my breath away. Standing at the top of North Melbourne train station this morning, I turned towards the city and gasped. The sky had already turned light, but the clouds were tinted in a myriad of pinks and lavenders. Some stretching across the sky in long lazy layers, some were delicately twisted across the aerial landscape like ribbons blown by the wind and frozen in time.
I breathed in the morning air and drank in the start of the day, then realized I had been standing there for five minutes which broke my reverie as I quickly dashed off to work.
Sitting now at my desk, tired, with a million things to do and people wanting my attention left, right and centre…I still find myself drifting into a trance and remembering those clouds.
Sometimes, the world is just so beautiful that it takes my breath away.
