Second Sunset

Second Sunset

Regional/Local

‘The Post Script’ By Carrie Classon

My parents are blessed in many ways. They even get more sunsets than most people.

I just visited my parents’ lake cabin up north. Their cabin sits high on a hill overlooking the water. You have to climb a lot of steps to get from the dock to the cabin. My father built the switchback stairway with a bench at the halfway point so you could pretend to be taking in the view while recovering from the steep climb. All weekend long, kids and dogs run down the stairs to the water and back up to the cabin. Wet feet and paws are pretty well dried off by the time they reach the cabin door.

In the evening, my parents usually find their way down to the water’s edge and watch the sunset across the lake. Loons accompany the sun setting across the water. My parents listen to the loons and watch the clouds turn pink and the water reflect the evening sky.

Then they do it all over again.

Because the cabin sits so far above the shore, when they climb back up to the cabin from the dock, the sun is no longer below the horizon but just setting again — a second sunset.

So my parents take a seat outside the cabin and watch the sun begin its descent a second time. I tell them that I admire the life they have created for themselves. They have a lovely cabin, fun friends and neighbors, they go biking all summer and skiing all winter and, at the end of every day, they get an extra sunset.

I’m thinking I would like a second sunset.

By middle age, I thought I could already see the sun going down. I figured I knew, more or less, how the story ended. But then my life changed — and I changed along with it.

At a time in life when it would be natural to have children in college, I am wondering if I might enjoy going back to school for another degree. At a time when it would not be unusual to have grandchildren, I puzzle over things I know my grandmother never did: Is it okay to wear a bikini after I have lines on my face? Is it reasonable to call a man with gray hair my “boyfriend”?

While my peers are celebrating milestone wedding anniversaries, I’m navigating the uncertain waters of dating at midlife. At a time in life when people my age have settled into seamless compatibility with their mate, I am still stubbing my toes and skinning my knees against unforeseen obstacles to intimacy and commitment.

But as I scramble up the hill in the end-of-the-day light, I see I have a lot of company.

There is so much to do in the late afternoon; there is so much left to see. I would feel a lot sillier if I was the only one racing up the hill. But all around me, I see folks looking for that second sunset: picking up paintbrushes, pens and college degrees, trying on new beliefs, new professions and new haircuts. Some of those scrambling up the hill are older than me, some are younger. All of us realize that the sun has really not gone down — we just need to change our perspective; we just need to get to higher ground.

Sometimes it’s a little embarrassing, but we don’t care. We’re all grateful for the chance to see a glorious second sunset from an entirely new point of view.

Carrie Classon is a writer and performer. She is the author of “ I’ve Been Waiting All My Life to be Middle Aged” and a syndicated columnist. Contact her at www. carrieclasson.com.

These young ladies from Marion Math, Science & Technology Magnet would like to say, “thank you to our generous friends at Robert Bosch Tool Corporation in West Memphis.” The school was recently able to purchase a Dremel 3D printer for the MST’s STEM lab, with Bosch contributing $700 towards the purchase. Students have learned to write the code to print various items and enjoy watching the printer at work. “We appreciate our local partners in education and look forward to future opportunities!” said a post on the school’s Facebook page.

Thanks a bunch, Bosch!

Submitted photo