File #500: "Mosaic vol. 1 1993_010.jpg"

ALWAYS WATCH THE SUN RISE, SON.
BY JASON L. CRUISE
He found himself at the edge of the field. It was small in actual size, but great in diversity of life. He had been to the edge of the field many times before, years and years he had been a part of this land. He first came to it when he was twelve years old, along with his father. It really hadn't changed much over the years, except that the beans that were once in the little field were no longer growing (not that they ever were very prosperous in the first place).
He and his dad used to hunt this land together. Every weekend during the season they would be there, sitting in their stands waiting for an opportunity. For the boy, dreams of that big one filled his head. For the father, a chance to relax and spend time with his son.
One day, while they were walking down an old, vorn road nade soft from the occasional aild floods from a nearby creek, the father sloved his stride as they approached the edge of the little field and asked, "Did you see the sun rise this morning. son7" "No, not really." replied the boy while scanning the edge of the field looking for any type of movement. "Always watch the sunrise, son, the father said, "there is more to it than what you see."
They returned later in the day for the evening hunt. The sky was still as cloudless as it was during the morning hours. The still chill that filled the frosty morning ait had somewhat lessened, but still could be felt. They parted at the creek, as usual, and then began the walk that would bring each to his tree. "Not a lot of activity this evening," the young boy thought. "I wonder what he is doing?" "Probably watching them feed in the field, and looking at the sunset," he thought with a look on his face that seemed to ask, "Why does he come? He doesn't seem concerned with the reason we are here."
The sun was almost fully nestled behind the timberline, and the youth began the walk toward the old creek where he would meet his dad, who would probably already be there waiting. As the young one reached the creek, tired from carrying the heavy Marlin on his shoulder, he could see his dad sitting on a log, looking as if he'd been there for a while. "See any7" he asked. "A few cane by 'round five, but that's all," stated the young one. "Did you?" asked the boy. A few slicks and one spike," the dad casually replied, "Why didn't you take him?" asked the confused boy. Just didn't, the father stated. As they walked down the familiar creek road, the father asked, "Did you notice the sunset this evening? It was really beautiful." "No, not really," the young one replied. Always watch the sunset, son. It's a wonderful, special thing."
So there he stood, this time all alone by the edge of the field. The sky was full of beautiful colors as the shades from the copper rays of the sunset strained to stay above the horizon. Time seemed to stand still, and the sun seemed to pause for a few minutes between the timberline and the rolling ridge of sage grass that was just below the tree line. "My, what a beautiful place," the son thought as he gently rubbed his chin, itching because he hadn't shaved since yesterday.

He returned the next morning, and crossed the old creek once again. He would make his way toward his tree, but the path he would take would not be the one he had taken so many times before. He would make his way to a place new to him, an heic to say the least, yet the way he knew all to well from often watching his father slowly make his way through the old white oaks. The frost was thick, just as he had seen it so many times before. It was almost like a miniature snowfall. Everything was so still. Peace filled all existence. He watched as the golden, bronze sun slowly began to wake over the same timberline that enriched his youth. With a mist in his eyes he thought, "God has blessed this place." One stepped out between two big caks, but he found no desire to act upon the opportunity. The morning passed on, and he was ready to call it a day.
As he reached the field, he was confronted by all of its beauty. The air was fresh nd crisp, and it, too, seemed to have a beauty all its own. As he walked through the field toward the creek, he couldn't help but think back on his youth, and of all the time he had failed to appreciate life and nature, even in something as small as an old, worn bean field now filled with sage.
He arrived at the creek, and sat down on a log to wait for him. Moments passed, and a short time later he could see him carrying the heavy Marlin while walking slowly down the soft creek bed of a road upon which he himselt had travelled so many times before. He seened tired from the weight of it, but treated the relic with reverence. While walking down the old road, the young father slowed his stride and asked his son in a voice filled with love, "Did you watch the sun rise this morning, son?" "No, not really, the boy replied. Always watch the sun rise, son." "There is more to it than what you see."
6 Home boy fetch the sked his the