Letter To The Sunset Watchers

People say they love watching sunsets.

They gaze upon the burning sky for a few moments. They think, “Wow, that’s a pretty sunset” — maybe even verbalize it. They alert their friends at the spectacle, provoking an impromptu photo-op. With their backs facing the sunlight, they snap a couple pictures. Some dimple-revealing grins, some pursed-lipped glances, some dead-panned profile pics.

Perhaps the moment is worth an Instagram post or a screensaver or one of the many pictures aimlessly suspended in the digital cloud. At the very least, the shot is a shoe-in for the photo montage at a funeral service.

I’m not here to gatekeep sunset watching. Nor am I lecturing you on how to watch a sunset. Nor am I saying everyone watches sunsets in this fashion. Nor am I implying that my method of sunset watching is superior to yours. Nor am I regularly ogling sunsets like a Sandlot kid at a public pool. Nor am I suggesting there is an objectively correct, upstanding, honest-to-God way to watch a sunset.

You are beholden to glimpse, capture, post, share, and jack off to admire a sunset however you want.

But have you ever truly appreciated a sunset? Admired the iridescent kaleidoscope of crimsons and cobalts melting into the horizon? Observed the tangerine contour? The seafoam-green mascara? The bubblegum blush accenting soft lilac undertones?

When was the last time you tilted your head towards a sunset like a child stepping into Antelope Canyon, gazing at the cascading gradients in pure wonder? When was the last time you gave your attention to a sunset for its entire life cycle?

Sunsets are optical illusions. The phenomenon feels frozen in time, yet the sky is morphing and imploding. A cosmic dance of color. A warm blanket thrown over the world. The celestial mingling of sun and moon, gently settling like a ship bouncing off a dock.

And yet, the sun’s swan dive into tomorrow is barely noticed. When you start observing the sunset, the colors gleam and glide across the skyline. But then, a couple clock-ticks later, you realize the performance has ended, the curtains have closed, and the sun has disappeared. The majesty of the heavens dissipated, and you weren’t present to cherish its finale.

The sun is setting on my time at college. I won’t have to worry about slurring off-topic lectures, 3 a.m. train horns, APSA parenthetical citations, or the damn 25-cent ping-pong ball dispenser. Imagine not having to deal with the wobbly stone tiles that make entering the library feel like an Indiana Jones puzzle. The prospect is thrilling and terrifying.

I don’t like thinking about the future. That cavernous unknown is responsible for some of my darkest nights. Instead, I bask in the little sunshine I have left. I treasure the sunbeams that have brushed against my skin. And I honor those who shine their light to make today a little brighter.

Thank you to those who teach me. Who challenge my intellect. Who disturb my social stigmas. Who enhance my cultural awareness. Who help me combat my self-destructive mannerisms. To the ones who call me out when I am too abrasive, and call me over when I am on the razor’s edge of a panic attack. To those who empower me to learn and become a better person.

Thank you to those who embrace my quirks. Who accept my nerdisms. Who laugh at my humor. Who jest at my witful remarks, volleying crude conversation with impeccable timing. To the people who entertain my games and puzzles. The people who invite me to arcade rampages, pick-up basketball, and stomach-churning road trips to Dairy Queen. The friends who let me ramble about reverse poetry or maritime border disputes or the property rights of breast implants. The precious gems who actually stop and ponder my hypotheticals of accepting a million dollars for permanently buckling a wristwatch around their genitals.

To the suns who have set: thank you for being the beacons for the younger generation. You show great patience with our inexperience, always empathizing and entertaining our vigor and vulgarity. When our vision is darkened, you are the flares illuminating the path forward. When we find reason to celebrate, you always show up to the party. When we want to throw Molotov cocktails, you are the first ones on our frontlines and the last ones leaving our hospital beds. You capture our hearts by unabashedly being who you are. No hidden fees, no GMOs, no artificial preservatives. All home-cooked, grass-fed love and support.

To the suns in the sky: thank you for keeping the fire alive. While our operations are never perfect, all of you are palpably passionate in your optimism and energy. Like a flambeaux, as one might say. I thank you for leaving your mark on my life. With eager eyes and a restless heart, I am excited to see what you do next.

To the suns at the crack of dawn: thank you for bearing the torch for the next era. And, as the spirited firecracker you are, you have the great privilege of rekindling the flames the prior generations sparked.

Trust the people around you. Deconstruct social barriers. Foster an inclusive space. Avoid cramming. Clearly communicate with one another. Listen to one another. Set boundaries. Obey your limits. Never overburden yourself. Never allow someone else to overburden themselves. Having a good time is a form of productivity; reserve time for fun and celebration. Contact alumni if you need anything. Never feel obligated to be someone you are not.

And, most importantly, actually truly admire your sunsets. Not just the ones within your orbit, but the ones who have no one to shine for.

You'll find a lot you never knew you needed. You also never know how much you admire a sun until it finally sets.

I may not know your names, but I trust that you will succeed in trailblazing your future and our hope. You will be the reason our fire will never be extinguished.

Sunsets are temporary. We may capture them on our phones, but we can’t preserve their time. The memory will slowly melt away; the photos and journal entries will collect dust. Even the campus we stand on is at risk of erosion.

Appreciate the sunsets in your life. Just make sure to keep your clothes on.

Don’t fall,

DJ