In 1993 my parents decided to take a job opportunity in a small community on Lake Erie. The city was said to be a growing tourist destination surrounded by beautiful beaches and luxurious summerhouses. My mother and father soon became general managers at one of the most popular hotels for vacationers. As I grew up in this tight knit community my parents met more and more people. Everyone always seemed to know who I was. The sense that people would always be watching out for me gave my parents a sense of security they would have never had in another city. They allowed me to explore the downtown area at a young age, first close to the hotel, then the remaining barriers came down. Nothing was off limits. Around the age of 9 I became infatuated with walking downtown and grew to admire every aspect of the historic city, especially catching my interest was the lake.

Every day I would spend hours exploring the bustling tourist destination. Everything seemed so much larger than me. I would see the same buildings everyday, yet always find something new and fascinating about them. My favorite activity was to walk to the near by peer. I would walk out all the way to the end; it always felt like a journey. I would step over the cracks in the cement and jump over all the uneven blocks that threatened to end the adventure. I would smile at every person fishing off the peer and greet every duck that swam close, hoping I had a handful of bread for it. When I finally would reach the end I would brush all the loose pieces of gravel off my favorite spot. I would carefully sit down on a big slab of cement and receive my prize for completing the task, the best seat in the house for sunset.

The sun that I had always imagined was yellow would turn a brilliant orange and slowly fall behind the horizon, changing the sky fantastic shades of red and yellow as it went. Just as it was about to slip behind the never-ending lake it would reach out the longest reflection imaginable. The silver path stretched from behind the horizon right to my feet. It was like sun was pleading for me to help it reclaim the sky. I knew it needed my help, it was begging for me to reach down and grab the reflection. The bright star needed me to pull it back into its rightful place in the heavens. However, the sun never reclaimed the sky while I was on the peer. Even a heavenly body needed to wait until it was their turn again. The walk to the peer was routine every day until I entered 6th grade. Then suddenly friends and every activity took precedence over the nightly adventure that seemed unnecessary anymore.

After a few years most memories of the sunset adventures were pushed to the back of my mind to make room for more important things like pop culture and algebra. However, one night when I was walking to meet a group of people at a local park I passed the entrance to the peer that I had once traveled every night. The ducks had long gone and the fishing season was over; Yet, I stood mystified staring down the long rocky and uneven path that was completely vacant from any sign of life. The sun had already set and the moon was the only illumination on the long trail. A strange force seemed to pull me toward the end of the peer perhaps it was curiosity. As I started walking everything felt completely different than when I had walked the same path years earlier. What was once an exciting adventure left me feeling alone and nervous. The cracks had become large holes and the uneven cement transformed into dangerous jagged rocks. When I finally reached the end I instinctively looked for my favorite slab of cement, however over time half of it had broken off and sat partially in the water, covered in moss and algae. I decided to just stand and look at the sky that once excited me. I suddenly wished I had been their a few minutes earlier to witness the sunset. I wanted so badly to see what I used to, but I knew had I been there, it would not have seemed as magnificent as it once did.

Everything about the peer had lost its wonder. I remembered the long reflection the sun would shoot from the horizon to my feet, the sun always wanted me to pull it back into the sky. However, I would never be able to pull the sun back into the sky. No one ever could and no one will ever be able to. The sun has had the same routine for billons of years and no matter how much it always wanted to shine eventually it had to give up the sky. I suddenly realized that for the rest of my life the sun would always rise and fall in the same fashion it always has. Perhaps it would continue this pattern until it burned out like every other star has. The naïve thought I once possessed about being able to pull the sun back into the sky was absurd. No person would ever affect something as significant as the cycle of day and night. The night does not stop for anyone, it will continue its path everyday for the rest of existence and no one will ever have any effect on it. The changing of light to dark will continue forever with no regard to who is watching or who can no longer observe the phenomenon.