It’s a tad embarrassing that I’ve never made the effort to wake up early and sit on one of several beautiful beaches that we have so close to home, to watch the sunrise. After moving home from Paris where it was still dark at 8am and I would wake to the artificial glow of the orange street lights, I promised myself that I would make more effort to be on those beaches and wake up with a golden sunrise instead.
I’d been talking to Tim for a few weeks about getting up early enough to do the one hour drive to one of my favourite beaches to see the sunrise. Weekends passed with the best intentions where the alarm went off at 4am to get up and go, to which we responded with a hit to the “Off” button and rolled back over to sleep.
Something that I have long forgotten was the feeling of cold sand. Sand is never cold. It’s always so hot in the middle of the day when I normally visit that I’m forced into doing that awkward run/walk to a spot where I throw down my towel and stop the burning on the soles of my feet. But with cold sand we walked slowly and then sat to begin a round of the Waiting Game with the sun.
I was instantly regretful that it had taken me 20 odd years to turn that alarm on just a little earlier and sit on that cold sand waiting for the day to arrive in its own time. It was bright. I was quiet. It was stunning. I was happy.