If there’s one thing I like about jet lag it’s that I often wake just before sunrise. I’m no morning person so this is rare. There is a gentle electric current to the chilled morning air. Everything feels, smells, looks crisp. Like an unopened book – whose pages, brisk with fresh ink printed for this occasion – my early morning tryst.
Every city has a rhythm, predictably melodic and syncopated. No moment is quiet like the predawn hour. And then, as I sit sipping my coffee, the city slowly begins to awaken in a doppler orchestra of cars, conversation, and public transportation. We live adjacent to a busy street so this quickly becomes a wall of sound.
With the family sleeping, a brief moment of solitude: even the cat sleeps somewhere other than my keyboard. In the morning we have a fleeting confidence, one part anticipation for the day’s potential and one part security in those tasks we have not yet failed to complete. Be’er Sheva stirs.