text: REEDSY #217 Prompt #1 We'd known each other for more than fifty years. That's a long time - some days. Other days it's a mere blink of an eye. In all that time there's one thing we've always done together...watch the sunrise. That's how I met Mr. McTyre. On my way home from work every morning, I would stop at the bluff to watch the sun rise. One morning someone else was sitting on the rock wall I claimed as mine at 6am daily. He didn't take up the entire wall and I ignored him. Day after day, he was sitting on my wall watching the sunrise. After a few weeks, he finally spoke to me. Was I on my way to work? No, I'm on my way home. He didn't ask where and I didn't volunteer. We sat ten feet apart on a wall overlooking the lake and watched the sun rise - every day but Sunday for nearly six months. About then he introduced himself. “Philip McTyre at your service, Ma'am.” I extended my hand. “Rachel Feldon.” Conversation was sparse but, after that, did occur. Good morning, mostly. Sometimes, nice day I believe. He was always very polite. And well groomed. I learned he was on his way to work. I didn't ask where and he didn't volunteer. So while we knew one another, we didn't know each other at all. One glorious day it was announced that the war was over. And soon it was common knowledge that many of us would be laid off - especially the night shift. I tried to imagine what it would be like living in the daylight again. I had worked nights for three years. Perhaps I could get back on track and return to college. The war had interrupted so many lives; I couldn't complain about mine. Oft times I had wonder why Philip McTyre was not in the armed forces. He seemed to be the right age for induction. While I knew he was employed, I had not ventured to inquire how or where. Perhaps he was one of those essential services that kept young men out of the military. I didn't ask. Several weeks after the end of the war was officially declared, I learned I would be laid off beginning the next week. When I reached the wall overlooking the lake, Mr. McTyre was facing the road, not the sun rise. “I'm being laid off starting next week”, he said. “So am I.” “Will you still be coming to watch the sun rise?” “I haven't thought that far ahead, Mr. McTyre. The thought of living in the daylight again has occupied my mind since I've been given notice.” “Ah, yes, that may be difficult to readjust your inner clock after so long a time.” I hadn't thought about having an inner clock. My concern was how long would it take for me to adjust to going to bed instead of going to work. I was worried about my cat. He will be terribly upset that I am not following a routine he's accustomed to following. “Indeed. It will be a challenge.” We watched the sunrise in silence after that rather lengthy exchange. I could tell his mind was not with the rising sun today. Perhaps his unemployment will create a greater challenge than a disgruntled cat. On the ordinary day, I always left the wall first. But on this day, Mr. McTyre excused himself saying, “I will see you tomorrow?” He stood up and began a very halting walk to his bicycle. Rather than leaning his bicycle against the wall, he always laid it on a bush by the road. He was lame. I quickly diverted my eyes so as not to make him self-conscious. Perhaps this was the reason he was not in the military. Or had he gotten lame while in the military? And came home to find work in a factory to continue his war effort? I felt slightly ashamed for having doubted him. The following week, I found myself up at five. I had a fitful night that first night of my unemployment. I went to the bluff. Mr. McTyre was there, as usual. “You don't have to be at work; why are you up so early?” I could not believe I had been so bold to challenge him. “You aren't at work; why are you up so early?” We laughed at each other's curiosity. Friendship followed so easily after that. Soon we were meeting for coffee in a small cafe close to my home. And, it turned out, close to his also. We still managed to watch the sun rise several mornings a week. Those mornings were never predetermined but we somehow always chose the same days to go to the bluff. We both found employment within the month. We began to see each other more often. Movies a few times a month. Occasionally dinner. Two years after we met, we married. Neither of us had family near so we went to the court house, got a license and was married by a judge. We needed a witness and one of the custodians at the courthouse agreed to stand for us. He was a very kind man. Mr. McTyre gave him five dollars for the favor. What an extravagant, generous gesture. Five dollars. Ah, fifty years of watching the sun rise. When we bought a home, we selected a house on a hill overlooking the same lake that our wall overlooks. Each morning at six, we would sit on the swing on the back porch and watch the sun rise. Then we had breakfast before going to work. We never had children. But I am sure they would have been sun rise watchers. There's something magical about the sun rising to start a new day. Inclement weather might dampen or darken it, but the sun always rose. But now, I tend to sit on the back porch swing and watch the moon reflecting off the lake below. One morning Mr. McTyre didn't awake as usual. By the time the coroner and the police had come and gone, the sun had risen and the day was half done. Since that day I have not watched the sun rise. Somehow the moon is more comforting, more forgiving. It reflects so gently on the lake; it is calm and reassuring. But I will always remember the sun rise and Philip McTyre.