In Beauty

It was early. Too early to be up and walking around the house, tiptoeing around the house because it was so early--the sun just rising, sending streams of light through the windows, enough to see that her sister still slept in the other bed, enough to see her parents, two lumps in their bed, one of them snoring, but softly, a wheeze of air in, then a rumble out.

She knew those sounds because she was a night walker. It was that secret, private part of herself that she never mentioned to anyone. Now that it was almost summer, the sun illumined her silent explorations, her soft padding from room to room, checking on the sleepers. Not even the dog stirred, but the cat always followed her, just as silent, the two of them going room to room. All is well. All is well. All is well.

That's all she needed to know, that all was well as the new day began its slow unfolding, its promise of the familiar. Oatmeal for breakfast (even in summer) and her dad's first hug, "Good morning, Princess." and her mother's, "How long have you been up?"

Always the same questions. 

"With the sun," she'd say because it was true. 

"Everything is fine," she said next, because it was true.

"Thank you, Princess." (Her father.)

"I'm so glad." (Her mother.)

And another day began in peace, in joy, in sunlight, in beauty.

(Inspired by Joy Harjo's "Eagle Poem" which ends with

                            We are truly blessed because we

                             Were born, and die within a

                                 True circle of motion,

                         Like eagle rounding out the morning

                             Inside us.

                             We pray that it will be done.

                             In beauty.

                             In beauty.