I Don't Chase Sunsets Anymore

Riding home. Twilight. Just me, Rosemary, and the path ahead, rolling towards the setting sun.

When I was younger and lived out east, I would always look towards the setting sun and think how lucky the people were who lived anywhere farther west than me. I always imagined that they were doing something fun and adventurous with the remaining hours of the their day while at the same time the rest of us out east had to retreat indoors for our geographic penance. There always seemed to be an unfairness to living where I did, because I didn't want to go to bed while other people were still up playing, even if they were 3000 miles away. The people out west seemed free of curfew, like kids whose parents would let them stay up past dark catching fireflies. Living. Not toiling, waiting for the next day. I felt like I was missing out on something - on living - because of where I grew up. That feeling stayed with me into my teens and college, always watching where the sun was setting, wondering what I was missing by not being there right now.

And then I fled. I went to find out where the sun sets and what lay beneath it. What did I find? My home, my calling, my solace, my happiness. The mountains, the ocean, the trees, the freedom. I don't watch the setting sun anymore and wonder what I am missing, because I have it right here. My end of the rainbow. Now when I look west I can notice each unique sunset and appreciate its beauty. The reds, oranges, peaches, and the most vivid shades of blue ranging from pale and soft to violet with a backdrop of sparkling stars. Each sunset is a gift to me that I never take for granted because I wanted for so long to see where that sun would take me.

So on tonight's ride home I was able to chase another sunset and find it at twilight teasing the silhouette of the Olympics over the Ballard Bridge. I said goodnight to the twilight and moved towards home knowing that I would find another sunset waiting for me tomorrow.