Seniors and Sunrises

It was Sept. 2, the morning of Senior Sunrise. Sitting in the passenger seat of my friend’s Lincoln, I breathed it all in. It had been a quiet ride from my house, besides the Beastie Boys CD that was on. We pulled into the school parking lot by the tennis courts, and sat for 30-some seconds, before my friend killed the engine without saying a word.

The sun was coming over the horizon, it was about halfway up by now. Orange light washed over all we could see. Our windows were down, and though we sat in silence, there was a dull chatter audible from the rest of the parking lot.

In that moment, I was not just with my friend; I felt that I was with a great many people, but at the same time completely alone. The world was quiet, and the sunrise escaped words.

Once a few minutes had passed, I thought to get out of the car and see if there was anyone I knew out in the parking lot. There were; a group of my friends were in line at the donut stand, some of them I hadn’t seen in a while. It was so good to see each other again!

We spoke about our lives as of late, the events of the school day, the weather, the donuts; it was very sweet company. As the sun rose, it seemed the energy of the students rose in tandem. The parking lot became fuller, louder, and even more joyful.

Just as the young sunlight washed over the concrete and the nearby grass, something began to wash over me. I realized that there would be no other Senior Sunrise; this was the only one.

I could never come back to it, and I especially could never come back to that moment. I looked around, trying to savor it. I was among friends, and the sunrise was beautiful. Everyone else was among their friends, all of us among each other, all of us watching the sunrise, and having a good time. Some were in lawn chairs, some in truck beds, some playing in the grass, some taking pictures, all like a big party.

The sun continued rising, as it always does. The feeling within me became stronger: a deep longing for that moment, even though it had not passed.

This is my last year of school, our last year of school. We can never return to it, never get it back. The sun is just now rising on this final year of a 13-year project, for all of us, and it is nearly impossible to take it all in in a satisfactory way. Maybe other people were thinking this same thing on that fine morning; I guess I’ll never know.

This all sounds very tragic, I know. “Time is ticking! Youth is fleeting! We can never go back, and it is terrible!” But that is not it at all. Senior Sunrise itself felt sort of celebratory, not somber. Our senior year is really a wonderful opportunity; the best parts of high school can still be enjoyed, and we have more freedom and experience than ever before.

There is still plenty over the horizon this year, plenty of great things yet to come: more games, more parties, more performances, and more good times.

Still standing in the parking lot, I thought back on these past three years. They haven’t exactly been typical. I’d say this is our first normal school year, the first not affected by the global or local events beyond anyone’s control. Did it really take four years to get one normal one.

The sun is rising on this year, but it is setting on the past three years, the past dozen years. We are almost done, and here we all are, watching the sunrise in the parking lot. But here we are, together, and maybe somebody else is thinking about it, too. We still have time left, time to enjoy, time to play, time to figure things out, and time to watch the sunrise together.