The Morning Came

Seen By A Blind Man

By Phil Scovell


     It was 8 o'clock but it felt like six.  I opened the door and
step from the livingroom out on to our deck.  Carrying my 5 month
old grandson, I walked to the deck swing and sat down.  It was
passed mid August and normally, at this hour of the morning, the
rising sun was so bright, it felt tangible and nearly knocked you
down.  This day started out cloudy.

     As I held my grandson, who likes the deck swing as much as
his grandpa, I stood him upright so he could stretch his legs.  He
stood on my right leg and pumped his legs up and down like little
pistons and I kidded him that he was already running in place. 
The air was heavy and mountain cool.  I thought it might be
possible it would rain, or at least sprinkle, but I felt nothing
yet.  My almost 4 year old grandson came out on the deck and said,
"E-pa," he hasn't learned grandpa yet so his grandmother is E-ma
and I am E-pa and I have no idea where he got these names but it
works, "Hi E-pa," he said.  I answer him and he said, "The sun
isn't out yet, E-pa."

     "Nope," I said.  "It's cloudy this morning, isn't it."  It
wasn't a question.

     "Yep," he said and began playing with some of his toys on
the deck.

     I continued talking to my younger grandson has I held him
upright and he ran in place.  I asked him if he were dancing,
running in place, or just practicing for the day he would walk for
the first time.  I heard the engines of a commercial jet sliding
down its invisible glide slope toward Denver International
airport.  It was still very high and its muted sounds of winding
down engines had just suddenly appeared over head and behind me as
it cross from southwest to northeast.  "Hey, Lee.  Can you see
that airplane?" I asked.

     Elijah said, "Nope.  It is in the clouds.  I can't see him E-
pa."

     Up until that point, I wasn't sure how low the cloud covering
might have been because the sun would have normally already been
fairly high and I wasn't feeling any sunlight at all on my face. 
"Yep," I said to my almost 4 year old grandson, "he's in the
clouds I guess."

     "Yep," Elijah replied as he returned to playing on the deck.

     Baby Everett was still running on my right leg as I held him
up as my ears continued surveying my surroundings.  I loved
hearing the planes coming in and going out and especially the fast
movers, the fighter jets, as they tilted skyward and passed up and
over the nearby mountains; the backwash of the jet engines loud as
they bounced off the rock faces.

     "E-pa," I heard my almost 4 year old grandson say, "the sun
just came out."

     "It did?" I questioned.  "I don't feel it yet," but just as I
said it, I vaguely felt the ambience of the air shift as the sun
began burning through the morning cloud covering.

     I was still listening for other aircraft coming and going but
heard none.  No fast movers today, I thought.  then I heard it.  I
was facing straight north in the swing.  The sound was east and
south, to my right and behind me but way off in the distance; I
mean, way off.  It was a perfect thunderclap.  I sat in awe at the
beautiful sound as it expanded like a bubble.  It had been miles
away but the thunder formed and shaped and rolled through the
density of mountainous morning air as it unfolded in every
direction.  I heard the backwash of the thunder and as I listened
carefully, it seemed as if the sound bounced and ricocheted and
bumped around in the clouds like a huge rubber ball.  The towering
Rocky Mountains to my left help trap the clear sounds in the
valley.  Being miles behind the phenomenon, I could hear every
element of its wave form as it curled and rolled and morphed into
ever expanding sound profiles across the valley below me.  My
almost 4 year old grandson said, "E-pa.  I hear thunder."

     "Me, too," I said; still listening to the beautiful morning
sound.  Ten seconds passed and I could still hear a small part of
the thunderclap far east of where I sat.  I wondered just how far
away it was now.  There were no other thunderclaps so this one I
was able to capture totally and catch every unique sound of its
design as it rolled across the city below.

     It was morning.

     As my mind focused on what I had just witnessed between my
grandchildren's little voices, the gliding jet, the faint sounds
of cars on their way to work, and the thunder, I said quietly to
myself, "Lord, if I could have only seen it."

     The baby was now done running on my right leg and was getting
fussy.  I stood and carried him into the house; the soft rays of
the Colorado morning sunlight now touching my back with its still
gentle warmth as the thick clouds filtered it.  I couldn't see the
sunrise any more, at least not yet, but I did witness it in all of
its God splendor.  Don't bother telling me there is no God.  I
didn't see Him this morning but I did hear Him.


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