Sunrise in my Mind
When I was a young girl, my bike was my passport to freedom. On summer mornings, I’d ride down to the lake, settling onto a cement wall at the end of Burnett Street. I’d sit in the quiet, watching the sunrise over Beaver Dam Lake, or so I thought.
Turns out that memory isn’t quite right. My favorite spot faces west. And last I checked, the sun rises in the east. So, what was I really watching? The soft glow of dawn? The lingering twilight? Funny how memories reshape themselves over time.
The next time I truly embraced the magic of morning light was as a tween at Camp Black Hawk in Northern Wisconsin. We’d wake at dawn, walk what felt like miles to the Mess Hall, and sing. Wherever Girl Scouts go, they often sing.
Our song most mornings was:
God has created a new day,
Silver and green and gold.
Live that the sunset may find us,
Worthy His gift to hold.
As I got older, sleeping in became far more appealing than chasing sunrises. Workdays blurred into years where mornings were spent behind windows—at home, in the car, at the office. Sometimes, I left for work in the dark and came home the same way.
But then there’s Door County. My family’s cottages sit along the shores of Lake Michigan, where the sunrise paints the sky with light and color. While tourists flock west for the famed sunsets, I stay east, soaking in moonrises and shimmering moon showers over the water. Door County is my happy place—rain or shine, sunrise or storm. It’s where memories live, dogs roam, and family gathers.
It reminds me of a song from Fiddler on the Roof:
Sunrise, Sunset
Sunrise, Sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears.
Life is a series of sunrises and sunsets, each one a chance to rewrite the story we thought we knew. So, was I watching the sunrise, the twilight, or just my imagination at work? Who knows? Either way, I had a front-row seat to something magical.
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