One of my best investments in comfort is a rocking chair for the outdoor porch. It sits eastward for the sunrise. Most mornings I step out to a black sky with a mug of coffee in hand. I sit and rock and sip as the stars fade into a new sky. With a hint of light, a chorus of birds begin their songs, loud and discordant like an orchestra tuning up. Birds take their bow when light turns the sky blue and the sun peeks thru the pines. A low rumble, the sound of the ocean in a seashell, takes their place. It’s the start of rush hour. And oddly, its soothing like white noise. I rock until the sun crests the trees ahead.
I find myself rocking at noon as well. The sky can’t match the colors of sunrise, but the garden has offerings. I’ve become friends with the daisies growing next to my rocker. They lean toward me in salutation. The first large, white blooms of summer introduced themselves while a crowd of buds waited their turn. I love watching them grow: first with tight-fisted buds and then triumphant blooms. When their heads droop and petals wilt, I trim the stems like an undertaker.
Sometimes my dogs join me and nap at my feet. I rock in sync with their sleepy breath.
The sun, the garden, and the rocker wait patiently for me every day. Like the signs my dad sent when he died, they offer so much comfort. Many days I walk into the dark with troubles in mind. The sun rises, the flowers lean in my direction, and I stay in my head. The key to contentment. It must be the ability to trade your worries for the sky and the garden every day. Or for the ever ready love of a dog who’ll sit by your side in any circumstance.