5:02 AM – 5: 56 AM in Baton Rouge, Louisiana:
At a rest stop before we hit the road again for New Orleans, and I realize that for the first time ever, I’m going to watch the sun rise in the South this morning.
Baton Rouge is beautiful, filled with houses amid shrubs through nearly every square block that I can see. The houses look old! Though not in a decrepit way, but in an historical, timeless way. And somehow, it’s as if the houses are smaller versions of the taller churches that make their mark not far from them, as if they’re in some sort of perfect harmony together.
In a moment, we’re on the highway again, but this time as I glance through the window, I see the blue hue of the morning almost wrestling with the nearly black clouds that are still lingering around, as if the latter refuse to give up the night without a fight.
But with each second that passes, more black clouds disappear, as the next day is set to take the stage. Now, in the distance I can see a white hue, accentuated by an orange glimmer underneath.
The sun is rising.
I’m in the South, and the South is already so distinct from the dirt trails of Texas that preceded it! Here the greenery is more than just grass, but it’s a lush mass of trees that make for more forestry than just mere decoration.
The sun continues to rise, and the white hue is now pulsing with orange radiance, like a cell awakened by new blood. At the same time, no longer as dark as before, the black clouds are becoming like still fossils of the night, the fingerprints of another time.
But they won’t be fossils for long. Soon the new sky transforms them, turning each cloud into a milky blue collection of scattered cells.
The sky now belongs to the morning, and just like that, I belong with it.