Summary

A mother shares the profound impact of a spontaneous sunrise walk with her son, reflecting on the beauty of nature, the joy of shared experiences, and the importance of seizing life's special moments.

Abstract

The author recounts a rare and beautiful experience of watching a sunrise over the sea with her son, an event that she had seldom witnessed before. Despite the early hour and her initial hesitations, she decides to join her son, who is nearing the end of his university studies, in this daily ritual he has adopted during his intense periods of night-time writing. The shared silence and awe as the sun emerges create a moment of connection not only with her son but also with ancient civilizations who marveled at the same spectacle. The experience leads to a heartfelt conversation about life's uncertainties and reinforces the value of embracing spontaneous opportunities for joy and closeness, especially in light of her son's impending departure from the family home.

Opinions

The author believes that experiences like watching a sunrise can be inspiring and are worth the effort, even if they require waking up early.
She acknowledges her son's role in encouraging her to try new things and appreciates his youthful perspective on life.
The author reflects on the importance of saying "yes" to life's opportunities, as these can lead to memorable and meaningful experiences.
She emphasizes the significance of shared moments with loved ones, which can provide comfort and reassurance during times of change and uncertainty.
The author suggests that joy can be found in unexpected places and advocates for spontaneity and openness to new experiences, especially during challenging times like the pandemic.

We Need to Grab Special Moments With Both Hands

The gift of a sunrise from my son

How many sunrises have you watched in your life? Have you ever seen the sun rise over the sea?

My answers to those questions are ‘not enough’ and ‘only once.’ It has taken me until the age of 54 to watch the sun come up over the sea, but I experienced that beauty today.

Like most nights, I found myself making a trip to the bathroom in the dark last night (one of the many joys of middle age). As I emerged, ready to crawl back into bed, my 22-year-old son appeared on the landing beside me, jacket on.

“Hiya, Mum. Do you want to come see the sunrise with me? We have about ten minutes.”

Many thoughts flitted through my mind in quick succession:

What time is it?
Am I awake enough to walk?
Will I have a stroke or a heart attack while forcing my body to go from nought to sixty in five minutes? (Half-joking but a possibility!)
Wouldn’t it be nicer to climb back into bed and go to sleep?
Will I ever get this offer again?
How will my son feel if I say no?
What will I be missing?
Can I get dressed quickly enough?

“Okay, give me two minutes,” I said, stumbling back into my bedroom and pulling clothes on willy-nilly. No time to wash my face or brush my hair — but I was pretty certain we wouldn’t bump into anyone.

We left the house within minutes and had a brisk walk down the street to the seafront. It was eerily quiet — not a car, not a fox, not even an early dog-walker.

My son is days away from finishing his university degree and has been writing through the nights for weeks now. He has told me several times how he will work until just before dawn and then walk down to the sea to watch the sun come up. When he gets home, he goes to bed and sleeps until about 3pm, when the entire cycle starts again.

Seeing the sunrise sounds very inspiring. But up until today, not for me.

‘Our sunrise’

We reached the beach just in time. The sun was beginning to peep over the horizon. We stood together in silence as it emerged, gazing in awe. I thought about all the ancient peoples who had done this before us, thousands of years ago — marvelling at the wonderful beginning of a new day.

The sky took on a pinky-orange hue and, in just two to three minutes, the sun emerged from the sea. It seemed to move slightly to the right as it travelled upwards, following its trajectory. A golden path glinted across the water towards us. Unfortunately, my words can’t do justice to the power and beauty we witnessed.

My son and I stood for a few minutes and then turned to walk home. I felt that he had shared something very special with me.

“That’s one of the best I’ve seen — no clouds,” he said.

“It was amazing. Thanks for asking me to come.”

And then — like an idiot —

“We should come back tonight to watch it go down.”

Can you see the flaw in my suggestion? My son did.

“But Mum, it goes down in the opposite direction, over the land.”

Ha! Of course. I knew that…

In my defence, it was 5am.

What did I get from this?

First, the sunrise was wonderful. I can’t believe that I’ve lived here on the North Sea coast for six years and never made the effort to get up and watch it.

Next, I have my son to thank for today. He is thirty-two years younger than me, but has encouraged me to have this new experience. It reminds me that everybody has something to teach us or show us.

Finally, it would have been so easy to say “No, thanks” when asked and simply to have got back into bed. But not only would I have missed something beautiful, I would have missed sharing these special moments with my son.

During our more leisurely walk home, and for an hour afterwards in our sitting room, we chatted about many things. He opened up to me about worries he had, mainly connected with finishing his studies and starting work, and in a few words I was able to allay his fears. It was a short time of closeness and intimacy that happens infrequently in our day-to-day lives.

Grab special moments with both hands

That’s my main takeaway from today. When life presents you with an opportunity for some moments of joy, take it.

Within the next few months, my son will probably (hopefully) have found a job. His plan is to stay with me while he works and saves enough for a deposit on a flat. In a year or so, he’ll move on. He’s only with me now because the pandemic put a stop to face-to-face learning, and the last six months of his degree have been conducted online.

He came home in early December for Christmas and has stayed for five months. They have been five wonderful months.

The pandemic has been horrific, taking lives and smashing livelihoods.

But out of that, I have had this unexpected and wonderful time with one of my children.

I’m learning to go with the flow and not worry about how things were supposed to be.
I’m learning to be spontaneous and grab with both hands what life offers.
I’m learning that joy is to be found in unexpected places.

So I urge you to take a chance and try something new. It could turn out to be the best part of your day.

And it may just be something you will always remember.