There are some things in this world that remind me of how it feels to really be alive. Being up and out the door to see the morning sunrise is one of them. There’s just something about witnessing the dawn of a new day that makes me feel deeply grateful to be alive.
One of the many things that I love about CBG is that he’s just as much of a morning person as I am. So when I suggested on Friday night that we set our Saturday morning alarm for 5:00 so we could get up and watch the sunrise before going to the Farmer’s Market, he was all for it.
His enthusiasm for our little adventures like these always makes me fall in love with him just a little bit more. Because he appreciates that “being alive”‘ feeling in the same way that I do. Yeah, yeah…a little cheesy, I know. But hey, I haven’t posted a lot of mushy stuff lately, so suck it up and deal my friends.
This was our reward for peeling ourselves out of bed at 5:00 am on Saturday morning:
The quiet of the morning, the smell of the salt air, my man by my side. The beating of my heart was almost audible to those around me. So much of my life has been spent trying to fit a certain mold. Please certain people. Be what others wanted or expected me to be. I didn’t like that person very much at all. That person didn’t live — she existed. There is a huge difference between the two.
But now? Now I’m truly alive. I’m reminded of this with every morning sunrise. With every night that I fall asleep with my cheek against CBG’s chest. With every time I fall into a heap of laughter with my girls.
This is living.