The day came. The day when we would officially be seniors. All of our past experiences had led to this moment. The pain, tears, moments of joy, friendships, and relationships had all led to those final steps down to that beach. I heard the gravel crunch beneath me as I walked, feeling the light breeze blowing through the fir trees in the crisp morning air. Looking across the beach, I saw seniors piled like a group of penguins awaiting the first jump into the frigid waters. For a moment, we were all back in kindergarten, with mismatched outfits, clumsy walks, laughter that made the heart swell with joy, and smiles that created everlasting friendships. We watched the night gracefully change into the beauty of the last days of summer. The wispy clouds illuminated by the sun were light yellow with an ombre of pinks and oranges painted behind them. The water reflected like a sheet of glass into the sky.

Senior Sunrise began as a senior get-together, but ended as one of the longest, yet most meaningful, two days of my life.

We set up the table in Ryan’s kitchen and began the project that would hold every senior memory we would make this final year. While we worked, we talked and learned about each other, telling stories that made us laugh as we had in kindergarten. It was the first time I remember being with all my closest friends. I wondered if we would ever feel this bond again in the future. I began getting nervous that after this year, the friendships I had known would vanish.

The gathering started to wind down. People wandered in search of a bed or a couch to refuel for the early morning to come, but not me, not Ryan. Instead, we talked for hours about topics close to our hearts, never giving signs of tiredness. That night brought me closer to one of my dearest friends. The best part was that it felt like it was never going to end; stories and memories and questions flowed out of us like a river. However, like all good things, that night did come to an end, and before I knew it, it was our first day of senior year. A universal American experience.

We woke up the others and got dressed for the sunrise. I wish I could have stopped time right then, before the sunrise happened. I knew that this was the beginning of the shortest year of our lives. We stuffed ourselves into Carsyn’s Ford Escape like sardines as we began the 5-minute drive to Bella Bella Beach. We waited as more and more cars started filling up the road and the parking lot. Adrenaline began to course through my body. It was still pitch black outside, and I remember wondering if the sun would even rise. We began walking down to the beach.

Alas, as our feet finally felt the gravel of the beach, we were swarmed by our friends for pictures and to catch up with those we hadn't seen in too long. I will be forever thankful for that sunrise. The sky began turning a shade of fresh lavender as it slowly stretched its rays toward us as if to usher us into our last year. The wakening warmth reminded me that time does not stop, even for the moments we wish would let us hold onto longer. The quiet morning turned into a breath of nostalgia. Before I knew it, the sky had become a shade of hot pink with a line of yellow on the horizon and light wisps of clouds strewn across it.

Strange how I had been looking forward to this sunrise for so long, but never ended up stopping to watch the sun come up. When I did pause, I realized this threshold between who we were and who we’re becoming is the American Dream.

© Anna. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.