“Why do you love sunsets so much?” my brother asked me a few days ago.
I sat there unable to answer a perfectly acceptable question. It wasn’t that I didn’t have an answer or that I didn’t know the reason for my, in his words, “obsession” about sunsets. The truth was, I could not put into words what sunsets mean to me. Well, of course, I could. Just not in the words he’d somehow understand, and especially not in the words my mother, who was present at that time, would even begin to understand.
Sunsets, to me, are a constant reminder that, as cliche as it sounds, life is beautiful. I feel constantly lost in this world, unable to find my meaning, and I feel that somehow my existence is a cosmic anomaly. Sunsets take all those feelings away. Sunsets make me grateful. Grateful that, however insignificant I feel, I get to witness every day one of nature’s epic displays. And, as the sun touches the horizon, as the sky bursts into different magnificent hues of orange, I remember once again that life is worth living, I ought to give it a shot. To a thousand more sunsets!