Where does the day start? It’s not really straight after midnight when the calendar tells us that one day has passed and a new one has begun. Is it as the first grey light of dawn defines the horizon anew, and the stillness of the stars fades, ever so gradually, as we begin to be enshrined in the blue dome? Is it the dawn chorus? That spacey, deep echo of birds, irrepressible and joyous, as they sense the fresh breeze giving way to new warmth? Is it when the sun, on a clear day, shows its first shimmering sliver of orange, splitting the blues as it builds its authority over all that is before it? Is it when that sun, as it rises, catches my eyelid, an imperceptible movement, a gentle, assertive awakening? Is it the careful roll over (so as not to disturb you); is it when I first plant my feet on the floor, or trudge sleepily to the bathroom and marvel at the hairstyle the night has given me? Is it the welcome release of the pressure on my bladder? For many, it is a bowl of cereal, a slice of toast, a sunny egg, a cup of tea or coffee. For many, it is the glorious realization that they are still alive, healthy and not in pain. For some, it is the dull realization of repeats of past pain, stress, concern or hurt that the night did not take away. What is it for me? I do know. For me, the start of a new day is my first kiss, the smile in your eyes, the sound of your voice, the touch of your skin and the deep, deep knowing that all is well.
Where does the day start?