Sunset-Day 7

I don’t see sunsets from my house. There are too many fences and trees. But the summer I was twelve, I walked to lake every evening to watch the sun dissolve behind the mountain on the western shore. The water was so placid that dust collected on the surface. It mirrored the stages of the sky. Peach. Amber. Gray. Cicadas trilled. My younger cousin asked my mother, “How do you turn them off?” I don’t remember her answer, but I can still see her smile as she walked us home.

About Elisabeth Crisp / @crisplyspoken

I write funny stories about serious subjects.

Posted on August 7, 2012, in Just One Thing, Writers Write and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. What a beautiful memory, and stunning description.


  2. Brought a smile to my face, too. I’ve always preferred the pastels sunsets or sunrises to the screaming oranges and purples. Lovely photo.


  3. A lovely memory. Thanks for sharing :)


  4. Beautiful photo and touching thought. Thank you.
    And thank you for the like.


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