Sunrise

We rose at the ungodly hour of 4:20am to get dressed and walk to the bus station that would take us to Heraklion. We had said goodbye to Quan, Jeremy, Amy, and Eric yesterday morning, and we were headed forward to Santorini. Viet's rolling suitcase seemed extra loud on the cobblestoned streets in the dead quiet of the early Chania morning. Two young Italian women spilled, laughing, out of a taxi, returning to their hotel. I shake my head slightly and look over at my husband, who is likely thinking exactly the same thing I'm thinking -- that once upon a time we might have been doing that too. But those days are past. I'm not sure, watching those girls cheerfully stumble down the street whether I'm mourning those days or not. I don't know. All I do know is that mourning or not, I can barely stay up past 2am and its not happening any more.

Instead, our responsible selves are catching the early early bus to make sure we make it on time for our ferry. At the bus station, a small group of 20-something young people are also waiting for our bus. But again, the difference is that they haven't slept and they're just heading home.

Eventually the bus gets rolling into the dark of the morning. We exit Chania city and follow the road along the north of Crete. Viet quickly falls back asleep and I continue to look out the window. I'm treated to the sight of Chania's large harbor, blue water so still and glassy that I feel like holding my breath, afraid to disturb it. The pre-dawn stars still twinkle above, fighting the first pinkish haze of sunrise that will soon steal their stage.

Ipod soundtrack playing in my ear, bus smoothly rolling down the road, my soul swells unexpectedly. I'm suddenly overwhelmingly grateful to be here to witness this sunrise, as if it were made just for me.