©1999 by Suzie Bagley - This story belongs to me. Do not publish it or use it in any way without my explicit permission. Ask me first!
Silent Sunrise
I had never seen the boy before that day. He was sitting on the bank of the river that ran outside my house, with his knees pulled to his chest, staring at the horizon. On either side of the river, leafy willows caressed the joining of water with sky. Beneath the light mist that hovered above the river, water darted between polished stones. The sky was deep blue and held the promise of a beautiful sunrise to come. I tightened the shawl I'd crocheted last year around my shoulders and took a hesitant step toward him, but even that couldn't break his gaze from the horizon.
I took a deep breath, trying to attract the boy's attention to ask him his name. In the porch light from my house, I could see he was about twelve years old, with blond hair, a spattering of freckles dotting his cheeks, and blue eyes wide in anticipation. He didn't turn toward me even once. I waited another minute, then sat down next to him.
Five minutes later the first golden rays of the sun peeked through the trees. Almost imperceptibly, he smiled as the sun rose. The smile grew as the sun climbed until both were shining brightly.
Without a word, the boy stood, picked up a pink pebble, and tossed it into the river. That task accomplished, he turned and skipped over the grass and disappeared into the forest. I sat another minute, watching the ripples in the water where the pebble had landed until those vanished like the boy. Slowly, I stood and returned to the house.
I awoke early the next morning and wondered if my young companion would reappear. I flipped on the porch light and stepped outside into the chilly air. There he was again, sitting as before, his fingers drawing abstract lines among the pebbles. I sat beside him with a grin and waited in silence until the sun poured its light onto the land. He then tossed another pebble into the river and disappeared into the forest.
If the forest around my house had been more populated, I wouldn't have wondered where he came from and where he went after this morning ritual. However, before he'd died, my husband had built our house, secluded in a forest, far away from the population, with only a narrow dirt road to connect us to the nearest town. The boy literally seemed to appear out of nowhere and disappear in the same manner. Did his parents know he came to this spot by himself? Why choose this spot over another? My mind considered these questions over and over during the next week as we repeated our little ritual day after day.
During the first week, the boy and I were blessed with wonderful weather; and I suspected that this was the reason he kept returning every day. The skies were clear and cloudless, the water bubbled cheerfully, and birds serenaded us from the treetops. However, a week after our odd, silent friendship had begun, we had our first cloudy morning. My heart sank as I saw the ominous clouds gather above the treetops. There would be no visible sunrise that morning. Suddenly I noticed a splash of yellow outside, however, and walked to the window. There was the boy, sitting on the bank of the river, watching the horizon. Did he not see the obvious?
I stepped outside, but he was oblivious to me as I sat beside him. I considered telling him that he should go home and come back the next day, but I couldn't do it. He stared attentively at the horizon but to no avail; on this day the sunrise was not visible. For a second the boy's eyes narrowed curiously and a flicker of a frown appeared, but it never fully materialized. Finally he stood, tossed a pebble into the river and walked away. I also stood and returned to the house as a raindrop landed on my cheek.
I didn't expect to see him after that one disappointment, but the next day he was back waiting for the sun to rise. Fortunately, the gloom of the previous day was replaced by a gorgeous red sunrise. I found it surprisingly comforting that morning as, apparently, did the boy. His smile grew as the sun rose, and I also smiled at his genuine happiness. His mouth twitched in barely restrained joy; then he stood, tossed a pebble into the river, and disappeared.
In time, the ritual became such a part of my routine that I could not imagine beginning the day in any other way. Rain or shine, the boy was there, and we'd brave the worst of it together. On stormy days it seemed bizarre, waiting for something that would not come, but perhaps things like these aren't supposed to make sense.
One morning I tried something different. It was a hot, steamy morning that threatened to get worse as the day progressed. As I saw him waiting outside, a thought struck me as I looked at the glass of orange juice on the counter. If the boy found so much joy in watching the sun rise, perhaps he would also enjoy a simple gift like a glass of orange juice.
I filled a second glass and took it to him, unsure whether he'd accept the gift. I sat by him and pressed the cold glass to his bare arm. Without turning to look at me, he enclosed the glass with his hand and took a sip. His trust in me, a stranger, was touching. The sun rose, he tossed his pebble into the river, then he set the empty glass down and skipped off into the forest. I determined to bring him a similar gift every morning after that, and he always took it without a nod, without a thank you. I didn't know if he liked it or not, but he never once rejected it.
The ritual continued for months. As school started, I often looked for him when I was in town, especially around the schoolyard, but I never saw him. Finally, after several days, I gave up; it seemed only fitting that I know nothing about him.
Fall and its colorful leaves soon became winter. The water froze, and snow-draped trees danced for us in the faint early morning light; but still we'd sit together. While we waited, he drew abstractly in the snow with his fingers and consumed the offering I gave him, then smiled as the sun rose, dug through the snow for his pebble to toss, and trudged through the snow into the forest. One morning I considered following his footprints to discover where he went; but, like my attempts to find him in town, I decided against it. Finally winter turned to spring and brought flittering butterflies, newly sprouting buds, and chattering chipmunks. The boy still came every day and I always joined him.
One day, however, as summer was upon us again, everything changed. He was sitting by the river as usual, but after the sun had risen and he'd tossed his pebble, he turned to me. For the first time, his eyes met mine and he observed me. I smiled at him, surprised by this development. The smile on his face broadened as we watched each other--me, a lonely, middle-aged widow, him a boy on the verge of life. Finally he rose to his feet, turned, and disappeared into the forest. I watched him go and suddenly realized that it was a year, to the day, since our ritual had begun. In that moment, I knew I'd never see him again...and I never did.
After that day, no matter where I was, I would wake to watch the sun rise regardless of the weather, then toss a pebble into the distance. I had found my own simple pleasure in the activity, and my day would feel incomplete if I didn't. Some things just have to be.
I suppose I could end the story there except for an event that occurred exactly ten years after I'd first met the boy. As I walked outside my house to watch the sun rise one cool summer morning, I found something sitting on the riverbank--a thin rectangle covered by brown paper. I carefully removed the paper and found a portrait of a woman and a small boy sitting along the bank of a river, watching a gorgeous red sunrise through the trees. It was the most touching gift I'd ever been given. There was no question who the gift was from or whom it was intended for; only one other person knew of our yearlong experience. I quickly examined it for any markings--artist's signature, dedication--but like our year spent together, the picture was a quiet mystery. I sat on the riverbank, clutching the painting to my chest with a smile on my face, and watched the sun rise as it always had before.