Today, like most days, I am the first to awaken. I own most places during the faint light of the predawn. As such, I find myself unconstrained by my typical self-censored behaviour. I emerge, transparent and naked. The only rule I impose on myself is one of silence as if I am in a holy place. During these early hours I risk listening to my thoughts and the faint presences that move within me, those shadowy figures within my underworld. At my age, I have come to accept their presence. After all, these presences are simply the voices and faces of who I was and could have been.
And yet, I am fully aware of the presence of others. Three children and an adult sleep within this home in which I am a visitor. Two small dogs are awake though quiet. I can sense that the dogs are on edge, perhaps even anxious as they wait for their family to waken. My wakefulness is marked by an alertness that scans the environment so as to sense any indications of anyone waking up to claim their rightful space in their home.
There is no way that I would allow them to be stressed in any form by the sight of an authentic man. Rather, I make sure that who they get to see is who they believe me to be – grandfather or parent. I am confident enough in my “self” to slip back into my varied roles without fearing the loss of self-identity which has emerged over so many heroic battles within the inner swamplands that sought to claim me, over and over again.
The morning light grows stronger, and like a chameleon, the visible me blends in with the rest of the world, at least on the surface. It’s time to say, “good morning, world.”