The sun is bright and hot on the side of my face. At 8:52, it has risen above the tree, but not yet disappeared high into the sky beyond my wall.
These are the things I notice in this new (to me) home. Our relationship is a tender 3 weeks old. We are still becoming acquainted.
I sit at my desk until I can no longer stand it. Until I can’t keep my eyes open against the blaze directly on me through bare windows. I gather my computer, my books, my journal, a few pens (because just one will never do), and move 10 feet. Those 10 feet transport me further than you might imagine. Those 10 feet are the difference between light and shadow, office and dining room.
For a while, I work in this shelter. A room lit just enough. The dimness and close walls turn me inward. I contemplate my to do list.
At 10:08 a.m. I return to my office. The sun has passed my window and now illuminates the floor. My chair is warm, like clothes fresh from the dryer. The office is bright. I can see again.
It is time to look outward again. Time to shine.