A Morning with the Rock

I am staring at Alcatraz challenging it to stare back, while the moon stares at the back of my head. It’s 5:54 AM on a brisk 48 degree Saturday morning. I’d fallen asleep by 10:00 PM, a far cry from my younger days of starting my night at that time. At 3:30 AM, I was awake and by 4:47 AM, I decided that I wanted to accompany Alcatraz and Fort Mason while they watched the sunrise.

Philz coffee in hand, I waited.

Waiting for the sun.

Waiting for you to come along
Waiting for you to hear my song
Waiting for you to come along
Waiting for you to tell me what went wrong

Waiting for the sun.

Jim Morrison would be proud of me.

What is it about the new day and a bright orange fiery ball welcoming us into it? What is about a brilliant white iridescent ball saying goodbye to us? And what of that moment when they stare at each. You say hello. I say goodbye. Hello. Hello. A man on a bicycle emerges from the sun riding towards the man on the moon. Behind a few minutes later, a man runs along the same path, each undoubtedly with different lives, different choices, different destinies. I wonder if they woke up as early as I did. Those thoughts are but fleeting when the pelicans come.

I always take notice when the pelicans come. They come in droves. They come in formation. They always seem to know what to do. And I take note.

Before long, my shadow gets longer. And I feel taller, more sure of myself than I have ever felt before. The moon is still staring at me. The sun shines its rays upon the boats in harbor and The Golden Gate Bridge, while a seagull wails, standing behind me, squawking orders. Her orders are quickly drowned out by the onrush of waves, no doubt the result of a conversation between the Earth and the Moon, soon settling into a rhythmic lull. Two ducks shake their tail feather keeping their gaze upon the buoy while a forty foot boat – the Rum Lass – powers into the bay.

And just like that, it was 6:53 AM. It’s time to go home. Taylor must be up by now, ready for a walk.