The Sunrise

For a bit of context, it's helpful to read "Naples, Missouri", my previous Kelley family story.

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"Psst."

I felt a shake.

"Hey, come on," then two pats on my left shoulder.

"It's too early," I mumbled into my pillow.

"Naw, it's all right babe."

"Don't you see what time it is? It's four-thirty in the --" I then rolled over and took in a good view of my husband. He had a pair of denim shorts on and a plain t-shirt, and was making no move to take them off -- which was all to the good. As much as we enjoy each other's company, and the occasions we can make love, I was too tired to try it this early on a Saturday morning. Once I saw the picnic blanket slung over his right shoulder, however, I understood immediately and was able to wake up. Fortunately, I don't sleep naked; it's one of his white tees and a pair of gray shorts for me, in case I need to wake and do in a hurry.

"No need for shoes -- it's gonna be a nice one today. C'mon, don't wanna miss it."

I smiled, took my glasses off the nightstand, put them on, and took his hand, threading his fingers through mine as we snuck out the back door like two teenagers -- something with which we're not inexperienced. Once outside, we kissed with abandon as he set up the blanket on the east lawn.

My name's Emily Kelley, by the way. My husband is Jason, and he's probably told you about how our family got started. Today, though, it's my turn to tell you how another of his favorite traditions and mine got started.

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"I've got him!"

"Here, let me help you -- least I can do."

It was a Saturday morning at around four o'clock, in June 1996. Matthew, our then six-week-old son, was either hungry, in need of a change, or both; to that end, he had awakened us by crying. Jason, determined not to leave all the heavy lifting to my parents and me, had moved in with us when he wasn't helping his grandmother, Fiona Kelley, with running her property during the day. I appreciated Jason so much that way -- not only for helping out with Matthew, but for being what he is to this day: a safe haven for my heart.

That summer and the previous one, he was only down between semesters in his studies up at Mizzou; when we found out I was pregnant with Matthew, Jason wanted to marry me immediately. I would have said Yes, too, if Dad hadn't made him go back and finish his degree; there was still a year on that at the time. Therefore, I came to treasure the moments we had together until he finished his degree and we could marry. For now, though, we had the division of labor to deal with. Jason, when he was here, actually volunteered regularly to help get Matthew cleaned up and diapered, as (and you can guess why) feeding him fell to me.

Once we had him taken care of and asleep, we went back to bed, but were ourselves unable to sleep -- as was our pattern most mornings. We'd lie there and hold each other in the hopes of drifting off, but that was the extent of things. Not only were we too tired to make love, but we wanted to wait until this wasn't a daily occurrence before having another baby.

For twenty sleepless minutes, we stared at the wall and the window; at that point, I noticed something slightly different about the sky, and reached over for Jason's hand.

I kissed him playfully. "C'mon, let's go," I whispered.

"Where're we going?" Jason was a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"It's not as though we're sleeping again this morning," I said with a small laugh; I then turned more serious and, once we were standing near the doorway, asked him. *When was the last time you got to watch a sunrise?"

*I've pulled all-nighters to prep for finals, seen the sky grow light --"

"Not the same." I grabbed a blanket out of our dresser and wrapped it around the back of my neck. "Even before we were a couple, I enjoyed coming out to watch the sunrise -- actually watch." My voice took on a dreamy note. "The sky paints itself -- it's so lovely, and nowhere better than here in Campania County."

"Pretty scene for a pretty girl," he smiled.

I kissed the tip of his nose, my hand reaching for his. "Have I told you lately how much I love you, Jason Kelley?"

"And have I told you lately how much I love you, Emily Swindon?" That was my maiden name, which I would only keep for less than a year at this point.

I kissed him full on the lips this time. "Let's go, don't wanna miss it." Hand in hand, we slipped out the door and set out. Once there, I spread out the blanket and motioned for Jason to sit down; he did, and I followed by sitting so that my back was against his chest. It was more than simply metaphorical: he was what he is. My wall, my rock. I never felt, or feel, so safe as this.

The black sky turned navy blue as the sun climbed by a half degree; another half degree, and there were oranges, yellows, and the occasional reds and lavenders darting here and there. I pulled Jason's right arm around me like a seatbelt, and he followed with his left, taking special care to lace our fingers.

He reached toward my breasts, to take one in his hand. If this had been last year, when we were first a couple, I would have helped him along; as it stood now, however, they were still somewhat tender from regularly nursing Matthew. In that light, I guided our hands back toward my waist, telling him why. I then leaned up to kiss him gently, then turned with him to watch the colors scatter brilliantly before fading into the kind of pure blue seen only in our Ozark foothills.

"Three things I'll never get tired of," he said after a few minutes.

I kissed him again. "What's that, babe."

"You ... and Matthew ... and you've made an addict of me. A convert." He held me a little more closely. "If all sunrises are like this, I could watch every one of them forever."

I smiled. "Like how?"

"With my arms full of the prettiest woman in Missouri."

"Just when I thought I couldn't love you any more than I do, Jason Kelley ..."

Neither of us kept track of how long we were outside; eventually, though, Mom found us.

"There you are!"

"Everything all right?" Jason asked.

Mom smiled. "Breakfast is ready, that's what. Pancakes and sausage, better hurry before it gets cold." We got to our feet and came in.

Dad didn't say much beyond "Good morning," but his expression on seeing Mom fetch us, and fully clothed on our part, said "Gotta love those crazy kids."

Matthew, bless his little heart, was sleeping through it all.

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I wiped a tear away, thinking how good God and time have been to us, here in 2021. Matthew is married now, with our first grandchild -- a year-old little girl named Angelique. Michael graduated from college last year and is himself engaged; McCord graduated from high school last month and turns eighteen in July; and Maureen is ... well, typically fifteen.

Jason heard me sniffling; when he asked why, I told him what I just told you. As is his way, he dried my tear with my own hair. I leaned back against him some more, and didn't push his hand away when he made for my right breast; in fact, I leaned into his hand. We don't need to be doing anything sexual; just having him hold them gets my heart going faster, and radiates a feeling of peace. At least, a feeling of peace until --

"Eww, gross, you two, get a room!"

Leave it to a fifteen-year-old girl -- in this case, Maureen -- to pull us back to Earth. We had to smile, despite her lack of manners; I, however, wasn't to be deterred quite so easily.

"Get a room, you say?"

"Yeah ... I mean, c'mon, Dad's feeling you up right here outside!"

"Then we'll get a room. Just one question -- ours or yours?"

Pro tip: if you have a daughter whom you need to gross out in a hurry, drop her a hint that her parents still enjoy degrees of intimacy. It works on Maureen every time; she ran back into the house, mock-yelling "Ewww, you guys!"

"Think we better go inside?" I asked Jason, a smile on my lips.

"Breakfast awaits, m'lady."

We stood up, kissed again, and made it to the dining room.

Over breakfast, I gave Maureen a set of sly grins. She doesn't know, but will someday hopefully understand, that I was wishing two things for her in that moment.

The first thing -- a man to love her, and for her to love, as her father and I do for each other.

The second -- their own daughter, who will one day be fifteen and react to her as she did to us. Poetic justice will never sound so delicious.

I squeezed Jason's hand. In turn, he held mine, both of us smiling to think how we're coming ever closer to that -- one beautiful Missouri sunrise at a time.