welcome the dawn

A persistent hand shook my shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

I groaned and sat up. Opening one heavy eye, I stared at my clock, groaned, and lay back down. “Jan, it’s 3am. Why?”

“You promised you’d come with me. Happy solstice!” She pulled down the covers and started tossing my clothes over my chair.

“Remind me again why I like you . . .”

She just laughed at my flip reply. I stumbled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to try and remember how she’d conned me into celebrating the dawn. I didn’t even like mornings, preferring to defer life until at least lunch time.

By the time I was awake enough to think, she had decided my closet was too limiting and was laying out a dress from hers. While I stumbled around the room, she was a miniature whirlwind, brushing her hair, curling mine, and choosing sandals, so awake that I wondered if she had slept at all last night.

And then she was ready to go. We followed the music down to where nearly a hundred shadows were dancing on the pavilion—a triangle of wooden decking that overlooked the river.

As we got close, Jan brought out a penny-whistle and joined the band. A laughing shape took my hands and whirled me into the madness, and I was laughing and dancing and losing my breath.

I don’t know how long we danced before the music suddenly stopped. Everyone turned to the east. Over the river, the dawn came, peering through the trees, turning the clouds purple and the sky gold. It took forever and no time at all. And then a stranger was kissing me and from all around came joyful cries.

Welcome the dawn! Happy solstice!

I was hoarse when the music started again.


300 words