Morning

Jan. 10th, 2017 10:11 am
azriona: (Default)
[personal profile] azriona
 It's still dark outside when Charlie wakes up in the morning. In the house, it's quiet as I get dressed and make up a sippy of milk for him. We snuggle on his bed while he drinks and wakes up, the warm weight of him on my lap, the last vestiges of his sleep slowly melting away.

We go outside after, in the cool dark of morning before the sun has risen, and as soon as we open the door, we hear it.

The first call to prayer of the morning is otherworldly - think of a thousand voices moaning on the wind, coming from every and from no direction at all. The entire world sings in a sweeping sigh. 

Over this, there's a single voice, using words I can't understand but which are plaintive and meaningful to him. It carries over the rest of the voices, from some single point off in the distance. I could almost pinpoint its origin, even if I can't determine where the other voices are from. 

Charlie climbs up into his stroller, still working on his sippy of milk, ready to continue his wake-up routine as I walk laps around the complex. But I stand and listen a little longer, my iPod forgotten, the earbuds limp in my hands. None of the music I could play is as captivating or haunting or beautiful as what early morning provides on its own.

It's good music for thinking.

Come to pray, is what someone one told me the call to prayer says. It is good to pray to Allah, praying to Allah makes you happy, you will feel so much better when you are done. Come to pray, now is the time to pray. Come.

I think they're probably right. Just listening to the voices on the wind is a strange combination of soothing and mystical, confusing and calming. It's so much a part of the night - and so unlike every other call to prayer during the day, I feel as if I've stumbled upon something precious and private. Or maybe that it's playing just for me - my precious, private moment, just for me and Charlie.

Every morning, the first call to prayer greets us as we step out the door in the darkness. By the time I'm done walking, it's over, and the sun is rising, casting orange and golden light over everything.

I wonder if Charlie will remember it.


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