Chocolate at Sunrise

What childhood rituals taught me about grounding myself when life feels chaotic

The alarm screamed me awake, but all I could hear was the hum of the warm, humid morning, calling me to the beach I grew up on. I rolled over, turned it off, and pulled the sheets off my awkward elementary-school-aged body. Slipping into my bathing suit and shorts, I padded downstairs for my flip-flops, heart fluttering with anticipation.

Opening the door, the still, humid air wrapped around me like a welcome. I hopped down the steps, crossed the driveway, and onto the soft sand of our little street beach. Knees pulled in, I watched the water shimmer with the sun’s first outcast of colors; a red carpet announcing her arrival. Confidence. I like it.

“Are you ready?” My next-door neighbor, my best friend, my summertime companion, slid in beside me. We kicked off our sandals and lay back, legs stretched, eyes tracing clouds, feeling the sun warm the bottoms of our feet.

“I’m ready. I grabbed the Hershey Bar,” I said, enjoying the simple comfort of chocolate and sun.

“I have the thermos of chocolate milk,” she declared, holding it up to confirm her statement.

That’s how our summer days began. Rowing around in our dinghy, exploring Ten Pound Island, wandering the woods of Eastern Point; every adventure punctuated by bites of chocolate and sips of milk, carefully rationed so it lasted the day.

And maybe that’s why the memory stays with me. Life has grown noisier, messier, full of unexpected turns. But I can still return to that morning: the sun rising over water, the soft sand beneath my feet, my best friend beside me. The child I was knew something I often forget as an adult; that grounding isn’t found in control, but in simple rituals, in trust, in showing up. Chaos may arrive, but the dawn always comes. Breathe. Feel. Be present. And remember: every dawn is bold, unapologetic, and waiting for you to show up.

🌞 Hanging By a Sunrise