Happy birthday

“We need to talk about mornings” said Emily . Apparently my current attitude towards the dawning of a new day is unacceptable to her. I really don’t understand this and I think perhaps her pessimism is inherited from her mother. I love watching the sunrise, each new day full of promise and renewed vigor.

Mornings are my favorite time to make love. Long slow sexy love, with a woman who is illuminated by the orange glow of the morning sun, its beams making a halo around her sweaty face as we hold each other in the aftermath.

I am trying desperately to capture the shades of gray that night on the river produce on paper with my charcoal and pastels. I think they are beautiful, but nowhere near as special to my heart, as that time of day when the world eases from monochromatic to real life Technicolor. I don’t think that broad daylight is very interesting, but the new shades and shadows created by the rising and setting sun blow me away.

There is a mystery to the sunrise like talking to an interesting person for the first time, or reading a new novel from that author you can’t put down. You want to get to know this day, soak it in, and love it, with all the passion that you thought you lost somewhere between childhood and middle age. I feel it most strongly on Mondays, because that is like the beginning of a whole new set of sunrises and not one thing exists that needs to be forgiven.

As I write the sky to the west is gunmetal gray, with the last of the morning stars twinkling idly as if waving goodbye. Ralph is purring and drooling in my lap, his soft fur the color of the sunrise he shares with me. I have a nice mug of English breakfast and a full day of adventures ahead. Yeah me, happy birthday, I hope that it is special for you.