Chasing sunsets: Nantucket

“Guys I am not missing another sunset because you’re indecisive. Lets go” I said with hand outstretched in the direction of the closest beach. The day before, in Martha’s Vineyard, I missed the sunset because Nolan spent too long in a jewelry store deciding if he wanted the watch with the yellow strap or the pink strap. A detail like that seems rather inconsequential to me. But today on Nantucket I had a feeling the stars would align and there would be an afternoon show. 

The cobblestone streets were filled with people strutting their Nantucket Reds, carrying bags laden with every variety of ridiculously expensive merchandise. The North side of the island was just far enough away and time just short enough to justify ordering an Uber. A neon green wrangler stopped at the street corner and we piled into the back seat. Florence is probably one of three uber drivers on the island. A French-Canadian transplant, she knows every facet of life on Nantucket and had endless suggestions to offer for our time on the island. Good local advice like which bars have all the “lassies,” or the fact that there is a new police force this summer hell bent on harassing tourists. Florence came to the island as a tour bus driver and knew all the best facts about the monuments we passed. We all appreciated her plain-spoken approach to life. As she stopped the jeep at our destination she wished us an appropriate “fair winds and following seas, lads.” 

Some other friends were already at the beach waiting near a swing-set settled between the dunes. They too had gotten a heap of advice from Florence earlier in the evening, and we all got a good laugh out of her. We took turns pumping ourselves to the limit of the creaky old swing and leaping from the height of the arc. The older couples around seemed to enjoy watching us run around like the giant children we all really are. 

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The sun dropped right behind a set of clouds hanging over Vineyard Sound, scattering rays of ‘angel light’ in wide arcs across the water. I ran out on the jetty, past one of those signs that is only in place to prevent a lawsuit (something about slippery rocks) to get the best pictures of the fleeting rays. The beach turned into a madhouse as people left their meals at the restaurant to see the rays dance in the sky. Drones buzzed overhead and girls squealed at ornery seagulls. I pranced back down the beach to join my friends only to realize I had nearly missed the best part of the evening; friends. We sat in the sand, picking at seashells and telling elaborate embarrassing stories about each other. 

The sun and clouds continued to mingle as they approached the horizon. We stayed until the cool sea breeze chased us inland. Arm over Max’s shoulder, I turned one last time to see the final orange glow welcoming the rising moon. Sunset and moonrise all at once. That is why I chase sunsets.