What draws me to the sunset. I guess what dissuades me from a sunrise is the inability to get out of bed that early. But still, what draws me to a time when the sun is about to take its rest. I am sitting here, listening to the waves splash against the very ground I was walking on for a few minutes before sitting down. The sound feels like a caress. No, it's not enough that it is the sunset. I've seen the sun set over mountains, over a desert, and while they are beautiful, here, over the blue yonder, is part of what draws me to bid farewell, temporarily, to the orange fireball.
Part of the draw is that I have always resided on an east coast, if I was living on the coast at all. I remember one time that I was on a peninsular in Costa Rica I would find the side of the peninsular where I could see the sun setting over the mainland but still with water between us, the bay that separated the peninsular from the mainland. It's the golden glitter that I was craving for, as well as the accompanying sound of the sea, as well as many other reasons.
Now I am sitting against my backpack. I take off my hat to feel the fresh air with my scalp. Where am I? Yes, the far end, the southern end. of a long beach in Thailand, with the Andaman Sea in front of me. I am alone. My travel companion is somewhere else, I can't remember. What is transpiring through my labyrinth of memories are all the sunsets before. Sunny how the sunsets aren't all that different, or that their differences don't reflect the differences in the locations. The difference is more because of the cloud formations on the horizon. Today it's very dramatic. The sun is temporarily hidden behind one of the long, puffy clouds, sporadically piercing it with its rays, sending glittering shimmers to the wide sea that touches so many countries. Today is the second day in a row that I am here, watching the sunset. My travel companion thinks I am too sentimental.
The sea is calm today, so the sea is almost like a big fiery mirror of the sky. I remember watching the sunset in Portugal, at that extremely windy southwestern corner of the rectangular country. I was not on a beach but on a cliff that dropped straight down to the cold Atlantic. The waves were awesome, often splashing all the way up to the top of the cliff. I could see the silhouette of the fisherman standing against the occasional splashes with the lowering sun behind them. What was I doing then? Waiting. Waiting, like other times, for the sun to set. I was with someone different. I was traveling with a different life, a different mindset. I didn't know what I was doing, except that at that moment, like all others that are transpiring through my mind now, I was waiting for the sun to set. I would always get emotional. It was always hard to see the sun setting on the sea.
But part of the draw is also a reconciliation. When I was young, I would dread the sunset because that meant I was very late going home, having dawdled too long after school, and that my Dad would be very angry when I showed my face at the door. But I also remember, in addition to the anger, the redness of the sun. I was fascinated that I could look at the sun without being blinded, and that it got bigger and redder as it got closer to its bed. So the first time I saw the sun set over the sea, I was fascinated in the same way. Where was I then? It was Wales, near Fishguard. I was also on tall cliffs, but the sea was gentle, and since the cliffs were all white, they become bright orange in the sunset. And what a sunset it was! It was raining most of the day, but little before the sunset it had stopped and the clouds started dispersing, allowing space for the sun to pain the remaining clouds with its solar brushes.
The first few sunsets were from traveling. The first "domestic" sunset was when I drove to Cape Elizabeth in Boston and watched the sun set over the cape onto the mainland horizon. It was also that day I realized the beauty, the drama, the romance of the sunset continued beyond the last vestige of the fiery globe was extinguished from the horizon. The blue color started to creep in, turning the sky into a more complex painting with all the colors of the palette. After that time I always stayed a little longer after the sunset, especially if there were clouds.
And so I am here, again, watching the illusion of the sun setting as I sit on an earth that is rotating away from the sun. And that is the other major draw for me. Knowing how small I am. Knowing that even the vast earth that has no bounds for my narrow vision is still at the mercy of the sun. That the sea that is caressing the sand before me is also at the mercy of the sun. That however far the sun may be, however tiny it may seem, it has always dictated the events on earth. And I sit here, smelling the sea and feeling the briny breeze, again I feel small and humbled by the artist that has just now disappeared below that subtle line yonder.
