Dawn

As an ambitious soul, I woke up this morning, pulling my hooded sweatshirt over my head resolutely, and set out in the predawn light, walking towards the shadow of Arthur’s Seat. Majestic in the daytime, in the soft glow of 4:20am, the seat dominated my vision as a black ominous shape, making the repressive silence around me all the more daunting. Though somewhat light outside, the city was silent; so quiet that I felt as if not a single creature moved save me as I swam through the twilight to the black shadows in front of me. As I approached the stairs leading up the seat, a rabbit, startled, dashed in front of me, stopped, looked at me as if to say, “Tut Tut, man, too early,” and vanished into the scrub.

The walk began with great earnest. I felt the pressure of time; already the sun was racing me to the top, and should my breath fail, it would not wait for me like a lady. I was sure I would miss the resplendence at the top, the golden sun gloating over the view of the city that it alone had. So I climbed, one foot placed steadily on each step, hoping a short shelf wouldn’t deny me sure footing. The dull glow grew as I made my way up the slope, dipping my back to be parallel in a desperate attempt to ease the climb. The burning in my calves was so insistent that I swore I could have smelled it in the air if my mouth wasn’t sucking at the air for more oxygen. I moved quickly, the growing brightness a ticking clock in my mind. Up, up, up, hands grabbed the worn basalt crags as I neared the top; they bit my hands harshly as I passed.

And then, I was there, grinning ear to ear in the crisp wind that tugged at my sweatshirt, pasting the fabric against wet skin. The sun had just broken over the horizon, but was still well below the gray clouds that covered the sky, lighting up the eastern mountain face and the still sleeping port below. Gazing down, I felt as if, just for this moment, I owned the peak, for I was the only person on it. But the insistent wind quickly cooled my heated skin, and falling adrenaline sapped the strength from my legs; I sat down in a small crevice in the rocks, and when the wind still found me there, I lay in it. Curled in a crevice, cradled by the black rock, my legs became wooden and stiff as if the stone was seeping in; I laughed, then laughed again at the laughter.

In the extinct volcano’s embrace, I peeked over the edge of my infirmary and saw the golden sphere peering at me, the flat horizon and clouds forming the lids of a heavenly eye. As I watched, the lidded eye closed, the orb rolling upwards, squeezed moisture from the clouds; the eye cried on my face, the wind pelted the droplets into rosy flesh. Had I spoiled the morning, or was the sun happy to share this moment with me, closing its eye in relief that it, like me, was no longer alone. Looking at each other, we came to an understanding, she and I.

The rocks bit my hands again as I descended the rocky slope, the seaborne breeze pushing me down; “hurry, hurry rain is coming and that is as much sun as you are going to get today, 15 minutes is enough for you.” I descended the rocky slopes like the water that fell, though not as gracefully, following the path carved by countless other rains. I skipped from rock to rock, bounding down the slope quicker than I had ascended.

When I reached the bottom someone else was walking up the path, and I smiled, saying to myself, “I’ve already seen it, the sun was there, we had a grand time at 4:50am.” Just a few minutes home, and then a look back at the much-changed crags, now less foreboding in the light of the day, though still muted by the cloud cover. The sun and I came to an understanding today. If it is too hard for her to make her way out, it is my job to meet her in the morning.