Yavapai Point

Sunrise, Yavapai Point, Mother's Day. 

Sitting on stone-cold boulders lining the edge of a cliff that drops several hundred meters down into the canyon. The birds are waking up and starting to play with the morning sun. The air is warming up, the whole world is stirring and warming up, the deep canyon is slowly, slowly unveiling its rugged beauty as a curtain of light is slowly lifted from the darkness below. 

An emptiness fills me, filling the corners of my eyes with tears. Before, at moments like this, surrounded by such beauty, such serenity, I would grab my phone and call home all excited and giddy like a child, mother's child, and tell mum all about it... 

Mum is somewhere now, I cannot see her, cannot speak to to, cannot touch her, yet her presence is all around me, inside of me. Mum is in the canyon, in the shadow of tree that shields me from the glaring ray of the sun, in the little bird that is hopping a meter or so in front of me, in the warmth and brightness of the sun that is slowly rising, rising over the hills, over the darkness and abyss. 

Happy Mother's Day...