lentin roses in the morning light

In The Morning Light

Home alone this morning, I was all excited about making a banana pancake and pouring real maple syrup from my tiny new pitcher. I sat down with the paper, my pancake set on a baby grass plate and took that first tender bite with my head bent toward the front page. And then I noticed the morning light edging across the table. I felt anointed.

Few things soothe like the morning light. It is buttery and soft, spiritual and cleansing. It is peace. While taking photographs for my home goods business, I began to pay attention to the sun’s rays, how quickly they moved across our dining table and how the morning sun illuminated the finest details in a subject. There were moments in the kitchen when I was stunned by the light, both its richness and the intensity of the glow. Consumed in daily details, I would forget to look at the counter. The moment at 9:30 when the sun turned the counter into a church, a place with the power to heal. Lean into the light and your body says Amen.

If I made a practice of sitting with the sun my days would be lighter. And yet I rarely do unless it’s part of my job. Somehow I forget to look for the light when my time is my own. Bad habits are so easy to pick up, good ones so hard to keep. I wonder if this is going to be the case with writing. I am feeling a little nauseous and dry mouthed thinking about it. I’ve told people I am closing my home goods business Catherine’s Table, that I am a writer now. My dream job is now my day job. Gotta get some good habits. On Monday or maybe Wednesday. Either way I’ve picked a path. Now I need to go find the sun and pray.