New Year's Sunrise

The seventy-eighth new year’s sunrise of my life has begun. Cheerfully bright yellow rays escaped through the rocky drapes of the distant landscape and cast their beams upon the little viewing area where my wife and I were seated along with other fellow romantic gazers, casting long shadows soon to fade with the tick of the clock. The stars above, one by one, withdrew from the brightening sky as their purple sea faded into streaks of pink and yellow. Even the chilly vibes of the previous year’s final night has shifted. Do not ask me how, but the cold of the night versus that of dawn has a rather distinguished atmosphere from each other. 

“The dawn of the new year...it’s begun, hasn’t it?” 

I glance over at María. She had unwrapped herself from her pink blanket, revealing her puffy holographic coat. I brush a strand of her grayed hair behind her ear. 

“Yes,” I reply. “It has.” 

“Ah…” she murmurs. “I see.” She smiled, albeit with the usual sadness. “A new chapter has begun…” 

It was like that even when we had first begun this tradition. It was during the winter of our sophomore year, when our English teacher had organized a voluntary field trip to Stellaruse Peaks specifically for viewing the first sunrise of the year. As expected, absolutely all of us had signed those sea-green permission slips to go, since hey, it’s a field trip; a pretty exciting thing for teenagers itching to escape their family for at least a day. The bus ride up was pretty typical; someone in the back had set up a karaoke scene, the window seaters silently snoring away, and the front section consisting of a solemn bus driver and a few students courageous enough to strike up a conversation with the teacher. Once we were all patiently unloaded from the bus, we began to set up our blankets, and I believe one kid even brought a canteen of hot chocolate. 

My María stood out from the crowd. As us restless students excitedly caught each other up with the latest winter break gossip and updates, I noticed that she was quietly standing at the fence, her then-dark brown hair dancing along the icy breeze. The friends I was hanging out with started to jeer and mutely hoot in support as I got up to join her, elbowing each other and cackling as if an insider joke had been said. 

“María, hey,” I greeted her cordially. “Why the long face?” 

“Oh, hey Ceri,” she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleepiness. Ah, I bet she went to sleep late again. “Does it really show?” 

“Yeah,” I replied. “Are you okay?” 

María sighed and rubbed her hands together, the tips of her fingers red from the cold. “Sunrises are really sad, y’know?” 

“Really?”

“Yes. The stars...when the sun rises, you won’t be able to see them anymore, and every new year, when the sun rises, there will be some constellations that you won’t see for a very long time. Some might not ever appear in your lifetime again.” 

“Oh,” I shift onto my other foot. “But, the sun’s a star, right? You can interpret it like, uh, like the stars are just switching positions with another star, right? Haha, well, I don’t really know how to explain it.” 

“Don’t worry, I get it,” María said. “But, the sun’s just the sun. We see it every day. It doesn’t change. But the stars, however, they’re absolutely beautiful. They’ve woven stories all around the world, they’ve immortalized the images of heroes and beasts. They can even tell love. Aren’t they more exciting than the sun?” 

A single ray of light suddenly illuminated the viewing platform, the background murmurs ceasing as the rest of our class clamored to their feet. Just behind the distant hills,  more rays began to peek through the grassy curtains, signaling the dawn of the new day, the new year. Cheers erupted all around María and I as the head of the sun finally made its appearance over the hills. 

I glance over at María. Despite her reddened eyes, the silver specks within those oceans of gray sparkled like snow in the morning, the random blonde strands within her dark hair turning gold at the touch of the sun’s finger. I felt my heart skip a bit, and a strange heat spreaded over my entire body. 

I cleared my throat. “María,” I whispered. “Perhaps...you can interpret the sunrise in a different way.” 

“What do you mean, Ceri?” 

“Well, when you said that there are some stars that you may not see for a long time after the end of the year, there are always new stars that will take their place in the sky, with new stories to tell. So, it’s like the sky is creating a new chapter, with new characters and new plots that you can immerse yourself in. And when their turn is up, a new cast will come. How does that sound?” 

María blinked. “That’s...that sounds really nice.” The corners of her chapped lips curled up slightly, and a faint flush of pink washed over her cheeks. “I really like it.” 

“I’m glad you do, truly.” I returned the smile. 

“I’m glad to have you as a friend, Ceri.” 

I unintentionally choked. “F-friend, huh…” 

María tilted her head. “We’ve always been friends, right?” 

“Y-yeah, of course! But uh...ah man, I guess I can’t hide it anymore, huh?” I gulped. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. “María…” I turned to face her. My heart was now at allegro. “I- I like you, like, like-like you. Ever since seventh grade.” 

“...What?” 

“I like you, and, um...well, yeah, that’s all.” María’s eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. I wondered what she was thinking at the time. Had it not registered yet? Or was she evaluating her own feelings about me? 

Suddenly, I felt María’s fingers interlace with mine. “M-María?” 

“I-is this awkward?” she asked. “Should I stop?” 

“N-no, it’s alright! Um, does that mean...you like me too?” 

María giggled. “Well, yeah. Yes, I like you too.” The rest of the field trip went by like a fleeting comet, too fast to see, yet so memorable. All I remember was the feeling of being on cloud nine as we watched the dawn of the new year together, as well as a new life together, one that I had not dreamed to become reality, rather it was just wishful thinking, and yet, it became as tangible as a present. She became a gorgeous astronaut that toured the universe above while I started up a very successful writing blog and took care of our two adorable yet mischievous daughters, and every new year’s we’d go up to Stellaruse Peaks in order to bid farewell to last year’s stories and welcome the new. After our daughters left for college, it was just María and I, just like our young times, just like now. 

I reach my hand into my pocket. “María, I have a present for you.” 

“Really? But, Christmas has passed already.” 

“Haha, but I think this is a better time to give it. Here.” I place her gift in her hand. She runs her fingers over it, feeling out the structure. 

“Are...are these glasses?” 

“Yes, put them on.” 

María pushes them onto her face with shaking fingers, her eyes squeezed shut. She gasped when she finally opened them, and a joyful howl erupted from the depths of her heart. 

“I can see! I can see! Oh Ceri, I can see!” She grabs my face, laughing as she kissed me and caressed my weathered cheeks that she had no hope of ever seeing again. “Where’d you get these? Aren’t these expensive?” 

“No need to fret,” I reply. “I just wanted you to be able to see the stars again.” I point up to the sky. “See, there’s still some left waiting for you to bid them farewell.” 

María tilts her head up, tears trickling down like a gentle stream. “Yes...goodbye lovely North...goodbye beautiful Strea…” she murmurs as she wished each star farewell as they slowly faded away with the pass of time. 

At last, dawn has ended, and morning has officially started. Though everyone else had left, we lingered behind, basking in the warmth of the new year. María sighs contentedly, her head resting on my shoulder. 

“Ceri, thank you. Thank you so much.” 

I gently kiss her forehead. “Anything for you, my love.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”