“I saw the most beautiful sun, Mama,” she said from the backseat.
Curious, I search the sky. It is early. I can see my breath as we speak. The cold drive to school is usually nothing but gray. Gray everywhere. But in recent weeks. Oh, this week.  The sunrise has greeted us with the lovelist pink skies.

“I can’t see it now, Mama. I’ll tell you when I find it.”

Her twin sister, now also very eager, starts scanning the sky. “Where is it? Where is it?”

I drive on as we all search the glittery sky.

Just a regular day. Driving to kindergarten, to work, to the ordinary day before us.

As we head into the city, wondering if we’ll see this elusive sun, screams radiate from the backseat waking me better than coffee.

There, bigger than anything, is a ball of orange that seems to fill half the horizon with its fiery, bright and stunning orange. A glowing ember of red circled around it like a hug, like eternity, like a mother. There, amazingly amazing.

She noticed this.

“It’s like the sun woke up and said it’s going to be a beautiful day,” her sister said.

Yes, yes. Yes!

Now each morning we search for the sun on the way to school, the sun that seems to peek up just in time to wish us a happy, sunshiney day. The sun that warms the earth, and our hearts.

This tradition, this way of life — to notice, to appreciate the earth — this is what this is all about.

This post is my contribution to Extraordinary Ordinary’s Just Write project. Be sure to visit some of the other Just Write posts.

(photo credit: NY Longbow)