Some things are worth it

At five o’clock this morning, Eva was awoken. The soft jazz music flowing out of her phone reminded her of life in Paris, as much as one can be reminded of something they never experienced anyway. Everyone around her called her crazy for setting an alarm that early, but Eva knew, there was no better time to enjoy nature, than at sunrise. The Netherlands was known as a flat country, and that it was, but about a thirty minute walk Eva had found a dyke, one from where it seemed she could see the entire county. It was the perfect place to watch the sunrise, and so she did. When the sun rose at a quarter past six, Eva awoke at five, and people could call her crazy all they wanted, some things are worth it.

Ever since she was a young child, clouds had fascinated her. Wherever she was, she could be entertained for hours just looking at the clouds. Those summer days with completely clear skies, that everyone always called beautiful days, were the exact opposite of beautiful to her, the sky was simply not complete without the clouds painted on it’s canvas. Even those days that the sky were only cloud, those sad, gloomy days, as everyone called them, even those were better than the days without clouds. It was fascinating to watch the sky on those days, how the clouds were indistinguishable at first glance, but when you took the time to really look at them, you could see all of the different clouds intertwining, flowing over or under one another, dancing as it were. Even now, Eva could be distracted for hours, just looking at the clouds.

It was not long ago that Eva first made the effort to wake up in time to watch the sunrise. It was quite on accident as well, she happened to be walking the dog that early, happened to have an appointment at seven that required it, happened to stumble across the sunrise as it were. She climbed the dyke to see it better, the early morning frost was biting every bit of exposed skin, but she could not pull herself away. She felt pity for those who never got to experience the sunrise, the way the clouds turned pink at first, the sun gracing the sky with a breath taking array of colours, from pink to blue to gold, she almost could not believe her eyes.

Never before had Eva thought of becoming a poet, a writer, a lyricist, a painter, but now she longed to be allowed the skill to honour this experience in the form of art. No words could describe it, but suddenly she understood everyone who has ever tried. Suddenly it was so unbelievably clear why so many cultures had worshiped the sun, and so incredibly bewildering that so many people had stopped.

The Sunrise, to Eva, offered a way to completely let go of all worries, to just watch the sky, even for just a quarter of an hour, but even this sight, was not as breath taking without the clouds. If she were a poet, a writer, a lyricist, hell, even a painter, they would be the vocal point, she knew what she missed in all of the poems, books, and songs worshipping the sun, sadly, she wasn’t any of those things.

The only art medium she knew where clouds did get the respect they deserved was in paintings. Eva could never forget the day her mother took her to a museum to view an art exhibition called ‘lucht’. It was a tribute to the Dutch skies and there were more than a hundred paintings and pictures depicting the Dutch sky in all of its glory, with often as many clouds as one could get on the canvas. Finally, proof that someone cared as much about the sky as she did.

The temperature was quite decent today, it was by no means warm, but not as cold as on other mornings either. There were a lot of clouds, but not the entire sky was filled with them, this, Eva knew, was a sign that today’s sunrise would be a particularly beautiful one. There were already some signs of colour on the very tips of the clouds, as if someone had put a yellow highlighter to a picture printed on a school computer that couldn’t print in colour.

Slowly but surely, more and more of the clouds got some yellow, some pink, and a lot of red accents. More and more the source of the light became visible. Even though the sun herself was still hidden behind a cloud, sometimes a little bit of her peeped through and even while she was completely hidden, a kind of halo had started to form around her. The area closest to her hiding spot was a bright golden yellow, then there was some bright red on the edges of the nearest clouds, some of which were almost completely painted pink, even farther away, the clouds were still a sad grey.

Eva might not be an artist, a painter, but the sun sure was. Bit by bit she painted the sky, all the colours she had in her pallet could be found on the nearby clouds, and as she finally came out of her hiding spot, she could reach more and more of the sky. Eva liked to think that if she could see herself, she would noticed that she too, had been painted in one of the sun’s gorgeous colours. By the time that all of the pinks had faded and only the sun’s own golden glow remained, Eva’s hands had become numb, her cheeks were glowing from the cold and her dog was begging to continue on their walk. At no other point in the day did that all seem as insignificant as now. She went on with her walk, woke up from her trance and went on with her day, but still, Eva knew, anyone who wanted to could call her crazy, let them talk, some things are worth every bit of discomfort. As she gazed out of the window, appreciating the clouds, she could not imagine ever not wanting to wake up early to witness such beauty.