It was a sight you only saw in dreams and
movies, the sun setting behind the buildings, behind the horizon,
ever-moving as we tiny specks upon our blue Earth hustle about. The
swirling clouds were painted in a radiant orange, like the flesh of a
ripe peach. The sky was dusted in a desert pink, pale and inviting, and
it cast that same hue down onto the bricks and pavement and into the
puddles of water forming from the storm earier.
A photo could not capture its beauty; I had to use the camera of my eye,
the film of my synapses to save it for another day. Despite this, I
still tried. Seven or eight sit on my data card. Waiting for me to look
back on them.
I thought, maybe this is the sunset they see in a thousand other places,
but God, I am blessed to see it here. I really am. I'm blessed to be
alive to see it at all.
Tomorrow is not promised.
If someone walked up to me and said, "Tonight's the night. When you go
to sleep, you'll wake up in No Man's Land, a wandering spirit, like the
rest of us." Well, I'd think that would be just fine. If my last earthly
sight was this sunset, I'd be okay with that. I'd think, "What a perfect
day for my life to end. There's no other day for it, really." And I
would camp out under the stars, though I can hardly see them in this
city, I'd paint them with silver speckles, hand-in-hand, waiting for the
sand to wash over me.
As soon as it was there, it disappeared, and the pink and orange turned
to blue and purple, and night came upon us. Now, only the streetlights
lit the way, and only the glow from everyone's dorms indicated we were
still alive.
What a blessing it was to walk outside for that moment. What a blessing
it was to breathe.
I'll remember this night on my final night, when I pick up that red
rotary and tell you to come get me. And I'll remember you, and I'll
remember everything you meant to me when I thought it was all over.
- to V.S.S., N.D.W., M.S.