I was on the phone with one of my friends, walking in circles around my neighborhood, when I happened to glance up at the sky to the west.
It was ablaze. Reds and pinks were hovering over the tops of trees and houses, obstructed by the hill of College Hill. But there was no doubt in my mind: this sunset is going to be unreal. I have to see it.
So, I hurried home to get my car keys, jumped in my car (which, for the record, made a weird noise when reversing. PRIUS, WHAT'S HAPPENING TO YOU??), and drove toward Prospect Park, the closest place I could think of that would give me a good view of the sky.
The reds and pinks I'd seen from my house were starting to fade and I was afraid I'd be too late.
I arrived to a park full of people lined against the railing, taking pictures of what they, too, understood to be the glory of heaven.
My joyful moment was that I did not miss it. And the fact that there were others in this city who cared to stop what they were doing and watch the sunset gives me a sense of hope for this world.