Sunrise Reflection
I refuse to photograph the sunrise. Every one of them committed to memory — just the run, the light, and the moment.
5 a.m., 40 degrees outside. One of those rare Miami mornings. I already know it won't be comfortable, but it's still better than running through the ice storms of my past. It's always dark when I head out. Usually rains until about an hour in. But because of the drier air, the sunrise is spectacular.
Most people carry their phones and stop to take pictures. Not me. I refuse.
Like many sunrises in my life, I commit them to memory. There's something special about not letting technology come between me and what's been gifted to me on a particular morning — no matter where I am or what stage of life I'm in. All of them, committed to memory.
There's something noble and pure about it. For me, it's how the Creator intended it: enjoyed fully, appreciated in every moment, without distractions. Just the sound of my steps, my breath, and the sunrise — exactly as it has been since the dawn of us. This is to be human.