"The sky is open," she whispers. Her tiny body leans against my chest, and together we sink deeper into my cozy bed. Her hair is a giant, red mess and already there is a sparkle in her sleepy, little eyes. A little louder this time and with a bit less patience, "The sky is open Mommy," she says. I barely peer out from behind my closed eyelids and see that a pale, blue light is seeping in through the curtains.
"The sky is open" means it is morning, but I think the sentence holds much more power than just that. It means, a new day is here, a new adventure awaits. My little girl lies patiently in her room, waiting for that first blue light that promises her that the night has concluded. Then, she pops out of bed and heads out into her world, ready for whatever may greet her.
Some mornings its a runny nose. Some mornings its the monotonous shuffle of making lunches and getting dressed and out the door. Some days, like today, it is a big bowl of snow for breakfast. To her, it doesn't matter what the morning may bring, it's the simple joy of a new day, a new experience, a new 'anything'. I long for her enthusiasm, I admire her spirit. I wish I could welcome that first blue light with wide eyes and thoughts. And, why can't I? Why can't I roll my tired 'ol "mom body" out of bed and welcome the day full of wonder? It's certainly not because I'm "too mature". If the close of the Christmas season gifts me anything, it's fondness for the purity of magic. The real magic you can feel as a child. The kind that filters away each day you grow older. The magic that is replaced by worry and fear, and boring things like being "realistic". The wonder of the world doesn't change any more than the path of our earth around the sun. There is power in magic. Maybe that is the secret I forgot as I grew older and wiser. I need some power, this coffee just isn't cutting it anymore. So, I think I will take a tiny, little redhead's lead and welcome the simple magic of a new morning. I can remember what it is like to be unaware of the dark, soul-sucking forces of stress and fear. I can do wonder all by myself.
So, today, or tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever you finally get around to it, welcome the blue light. Embrace the uncertainty and accept it as adventure. Roll on out of bed and pour yourself a big, bowl of snow. If you haven't already noticed... the sky is open.