There is only one sunrise I can touch with my memory, recalling vividly the brilliant spectacle of an orange-red sun sashaying slowly down the fuchsia clouds that were sprawled across the sky as it greeted my place in the world.
I stood on a sandy beach in Moorea, where I had traveled with a friend who was entertaining a Frenchman in our shared hotel room. I’d woken at five and crept out the door to give them some time alone. Where I wandered along the main road winding around the tiny island, roosters and chickens roamed like zombies, half-asleep as they scoured small yards for discarded pecks of bread and seed.
With a camera at my eye, I snapped pictures of the gray-blue morning, which was far from muted by a tropical radiance which I had not seen in other points on the globe. Around a bend, I captured a toilet sitting desolately amidst the crumbled ruins of a long-destroyed house adjacent to the lot where a small, white church was not ready to wake. It was between these relics that I walked toward the lapping lagoon to check for the sun which had yet to appear. Across the silver sky, a sliver of salmon and crimson red floated above the distant sea-line, laced in a vibrant tangerine.
The show was starting, and I stood there, waiting for the main event, observing the long, wooden pier which jutted across my view but subtle enough not to interrupt the spiritual rising about to take place. Low clouds on the horizon elatedly snatched the tinges of rose, plum, and lavender which were being tossed into the heavens, announcing the hint of a blushing sun that peeked over the water’s edge. How coy it played to this audience, when I knew its powerful glare was far from shy or bashful, but for one to appreciate its true magnificent range and the influence it stretched above us all, this was the entrance it conceived for that day. I was witnessing the birth of a sun.
The glowing coral ball rising in the east commanded pause and reflection, spreading its warm rainbow cape along the horizon during its steady ascent. Soft peach swirled and blended with gold-hued pinks, which melted against violet threads and lilac splashes. The blackened lagoon waters lightened to a pale blue as they sparkled and waved toward their familiar friend, reaching longingly for a glimpse of the colors it ceremoniously painted across the sky’s wall.
In this hour, the sun was king, and I, its loyal follower. Grateful for his light, his constant warmth while he watched over us all and nudged us from our beds, I could not help but appreciate the day I’d been given after witnessing his rise, beholding the beauty of simple nature always surrounding me, yet often going unnoticed in my busier days.
Somewhere today, that sun rises again over infinite waters, and perhaps there is a stranger who stands on the edge of an island, reveling in the change of a world as its awakened by our greatest star.
– Written by Miss A on July 10, 2012