I love a sunset. I always have. From the time I was seven years old, I watched every sunset over the White Mts. for 51 summers on Long Lake in Maine. Now, for us, the sun sets over Sebago Lake. This past week, Sisters’ Week at the Lake, my sister and I ended each fun-filled vacation day by watching the setting sun while sitting on the beach or porch of our rented 1900’s bungalow-style lake house.
I have never ceased to feel a sense of calm, to feel totally relaxed, while sitting silently watching the gradient hues of color paint the evening sky. Each night, the horizon – a fresh blank canvas – evolves into a new magnificent painting before our very eyes. I have often heard people say that you become used to something that is right in front of you every day. Not the sunset. Not for me. I avoid any nightly distraction that would prevent me from taking my front row seat for the sunset show.
Our father’s nightly post on the beach (Long Lake) with his special dog Talley at his side, ready to enjoy the sunset.
Our last sunset of our Sisters’ Week seemed the most breathtaking of all. Bittersweet in the knowing that it would be an entire year before we would be back, sitting on the beach awaiting showtime. In tribute to Oswald Johnson, our father, who brought us to the site of beauty back in 1958. He never missed his sunset, ever.