before work

Right now I’m watching the evolution of this morning. Looking east, the sun is still beneath the land, but the sky is lightening to colors that evoke images like: coral reef, and Flamingo flocks. But it’s pretty damn cold outside.

I’ve been waking up really early these days, or at least it feels early: I suppose I’ve got winter as an accomplice, because every day the sun rises 4 minutes later than it did the day before. It leaves me feeling like I have a huge head start on everyone else, which, I must admit, is kind of an old Amy strategy for getting things done. I’ve generally been most productive before noon in my life, and particularly in the hours when most people around me are still asleep.

As for now, well, I’m amazed how things get done. I don’t have the angst of urgency around accomplishing things. I know they’ll get done, and if they don’t, I’m not going to die, but if I do die, well, I was going to die sometime anyway. I can’t really pick the moment that works best for me.

One person in the group I’ve found myself hanging around lately is an EMT. Yesterday, she was part of a team that responded to a call at Durango Mountain Resort. A few guys were working on a construction project out there, and while one man worked alone, a trench collapsed on him. He was pinned down by a piece of concrete, and when his co—workers found him 15 minutes later, he was dead.

Even though she encounters death periodically in her job, often enough to assume that she’s used to it, Reno says that every time is remarkably different, and both simultaneously surreal and hyperreal. Every incident brings up something new. This time, she was struck by how serene this man looked, with the chunk of concrete resting on his chest. It was if he’d experienced no pain, no remorse, no disappointment about coming to work and dying there. He looked like he was asleep.

I love that I get to wake up.