[Authoress's Notes:

[This was written, May 2001, as I sat watching the sunset from my driveway. It's entirely stream-of-consciousness, here as it was scribbled down in my notebook. This was written during a very difficult time in my life, but I was trying to take a moment for some peace. With chaos and despair whirling around me almost constantly, I sought comfort in the natural world. This was originally written to a personal endeavor, but it received such acclaim from everyone who read it that I decided to publish it here. I hope you enjoy it.]

Twilight

It's perfect. The sky is golden. Wispy clouds are drifting across the sky, reflecting the last few moments of sunset. The air is starting to cool, and still smells of the thunderstorm that rolled through two hours ago.

But the moment will be gone soon. Does everything fade so fast? Is it okay for things to be brief if they are breathtaking?

The western horizon is gold, but the south is purple.

It's moments like this, happy and peaceful, that make me glad to be alive. Moments like this, you could see faeries. Or ride a unicorn.

Have sunsets always been beautiful? Did the first being capable of coherent thought sit in the same awe and wonder as I do?

It's turning pink. The gold is changing to a soft, rosy glow. Soon it will all be purple, then midnight blue, like the east now, then black. Then the stars will come out.

No wonder the ancients wanted to know where the sun went. Who wouldn't want to try and find that splendor? Who was the first person to try and find it?

The sun is still illuminating the west.

Children are all wonder and no doubt. They'll believe anything. They make up their own mythology about where the sun goes.

Gold, orange, pink, purple, blue, black.

I miss that innocence sometimes. I miss the times when a kiss on the forehead from Momma and a piece of chocolate could make the world right. I miss the times I didn't know all the scientific reasons for sunsets and stars. I miss the wonder.

I miss the faeries. Momma tells me I used to see faeries. I was so little, I don't even remember it. But she does. I wish I could still see them.

If believing something makes it so, why don't I still see faeries? Why can't I ride a unicorn or pet a griffin? I still believe in those things.

Why don't wishes come true? I still believe in those stars.

More pink than gold now.

And now mostly purple. I haven't been out here ten minutes! How can it all disappear so fast? I want to lock this in my memory. The myriad colors in the sky, the cold breeze, the songs of the sparrows and cardinals over my head…

Was it more beautiful back before cars and brick houses and nicely paved streets? I envy the people who could sit and watch the sunset and see nothing but green land and beautiful sky.

There's a moment of white at the horizon, just between orange and pink. Brilliant white.

A night like this, a girl could really fly. Could forget all her troubles and soar so high that magically, everything would be better.

Why isn't there magic anymore? Real magic. The kind that existed before we documented time so carefully. Back when elves stepped out of the forests and virgins sought out unicorns and dragons defeated knights. Such a time must have existed once, or else we wouldn't image it so vividly.

It's all turning grey now.

Maybe there was such a time, somewhere between the fall of Rome and Charlemagne. After all, we know practically nothing about that time. Maybe faeries and unicorns root there in the collective subconscious.

It's all turned to grey now, save that thin line of purple in the west. And it's getting colder.

Where are my stars? The sunset has faded, and I want my stars.

Do magic creatures still exist? Somewhere, hidden from time? Has human civilization simply frightened them away? Will they ever return?

I think that humanity needs a good slap in the face.

I think everyone should take the time to watch sunsets.

I think everyone should wait for the stars to come out.

Am I still a child, to believe so fervently in what can not be?

Can something die if it lives only in the imagination? How can you kill something that has no place in reality?

How many colors don't we see? How many sounds don't we hear? What beautiful experiences are we missing out on by the sheer bad luck of being human?

All grey. Except for the sliver of yellow at the horizon. The gold always returns right before night falls.

Too many intelligent people spend their lives thinking, not experiencing. I promise in my heart never to be one of those.

If you knew you were going to die at dawn, would the sunset seem more spectacular than ever? Would you notice the dawn?

Are you wiser if you know all things or experience all emotions?

Which is more beautiful, the noise of a flute, or the sound of the wind in the leaves? Do birds know how lucky they are to fly?

The light is fading. Half an hour. Half an hour out of all eternity, and I chose to enjoy it. Is it better to partially enjoy a full lifetime, or truly enjoy a few moments?

How much more important would a single day be if we only lived a thousand? What if we lived a thousand years?

Midnight blue. Nine o'clock and still not black. Still no stars.