If you have hung around this blog for about, oh let’s say 3 minutes, you will know that I post many – as in “mucho many” – images of sunsets and sunrises. I am consistent, if not boring.

So, this past week, my wife and I have been enjoying a vacation on the Gulf Coast of Florida. As you imagine, the week here has afforded many opportunities to capture spectacular sunsets. And I did take too many photographs.

Before I share those, I thought I would share a post about the last sunset we saw together. I spent so much time taking pictures during the week, that on our last night at the beach I decided to be present to my bride, and present to the setting sun. I am so glad I did. 

Sunset was around 7:25 PM. We sat down around 7:15 PM…ish. From this point, this is what I remember:

We placed our seal level chairs right at the edge of the gentle Gulf waves as they splashed over the white, baby powder sand and washed over our feet. I think “sea level chairs” is the correct technical term. They are very low to the ground. I know this because of the forklift that was used to help me get out of my sea level chair.

We angled our chairs – maybe the correct term is, “I dare you to get up chair” – just right so we would have a perfect view of the water and the sun as it made its descent towards the horizon.

There was a gentle breeze. This was unusual because each day this week was based on a weather template that included very hot and humid conditions, bright, blazing sunshine, and air molecules that were not permitted to move.

When we sat, there was a golden path stretching from our feet right to the edge of the horizon, just below the sun, reminiscent of Dorothy’s Yellow Brick Road, only with more waves and seagulls.

At times, it appeared as if the sun was shooting out this… tractor beam that would soon draw us in its light to meet the great star on the horizon. Then, a bird would catch my eye, and when I looked again, it appeared like the path was being created by… us! Like these impossibly close to the white, baby powder sand chairs were emitting a path of their own for us to follow. Whether it was the sun, or our powerful chairs, the beauty was hypnotic to experience.

This was because the gold highway cut straight through indigo blue water… no, wait… it was a blue-ish color with tints of green hues and dark small ripple shadows created by the breeze. I can’t say that I have ever seen water that color before. The water was not reflecting the color of the sky. The Gulf was creating its own magic with wavelengths of light.

The soundtrack to all of this was the beautiful ostinato of the swoosh and bubble-gurgling of the small waves, accompanied by the erratic, staccato calls of the particular kind of seagulls at this beach. I know as much about seagulls as I know about sea level chairs, so I can’t tell you the name of the musical ensembles and their performances. I imagined it would be what Stravinsky would write if he wrote a composition entitled: “The Rite of Sunset on Siesta Key.”

As the sun descended closer into the water, the people enjoying a stroll on the beach would stop. Some would look. Others would take out their phones. I did not judge them.

We kissed as the last, tiny, marble sized ember disappeared into the end of the day. Somewhere it was dawn.