Remembering the Exact Color and Design

In a former life - the one without Very Small People - I used to look forward to the start of Daylight Saving Time, in spite of the fact that it meant I couldn't deny the approach of winter any longer (much as I would like to). It inevitably fell on the same night as our annual Hallowe'en Extravaganza, so we gained both an hour of extra partying and an hour of extra sleep. These days, especially with little V., there's no such thing as an extra hour of sleep, ever. Naturally this year, both girls' schedules were all out of whack and both woke up extra, extra early the day the clocks were turned back. Rather than wallow in my sleep-deprived-misery, I decided to seize the moment. As I looked out the dining room sliding door windows to the mountain ridge in the distance, I could tell that it was going to be an absolutely glorious sunrise that morning. Hearing through the baby monitor that Z. was already awake, I ran to her room and excitedly said, "Come quick! I want to show you something COOL!" That sort of promise, even if it's made over something we adults would find small or silly, always motivates her in surprising ways. So we both went dashing downstairs to the dining room and I pointed out at the sunrise, which was just as spectacular as I thought it was going to be. The skies were the most intense shade of crimson-red, light shining through filmy clouds over the tops of trees just coming into their most colorful autumn hues. We stood there together at the glass, just watching and admiring. Z. even stood still for longer than usual.

Even a week later, she is still talking about that sunrise. I feel blessed not just to have shared it with her, but that she has the capacity to appreciate such small, beautiful moments in this world.