And I will always have the sunset..

The sunset has been the only constant lover of my life..and what loyalty!

I say this with the kind of authority that only forty-four years, four continents, and twenty-five homes can give a woman who has been both fugitive and seeker, runner and rootless dreamer. Friends, lovers, apartments, bank accounts, identities—even my own reflection—have shifted, broken, evaporated, and reassembled like dust in the wind. But the sunset? It’s always shown up. Uninvited, consistent, patient. Never once asking me to be more, to do more, to change.

Some days it has found me at the kitchen sink, washing dishes and nursing the kind of heartbreak that stains the bones. Other days it has met me barefoot on a beach, hair wild, holding a mango in one hand and a journal in the other, scribbling grand revelations as though the sky were my co-conspirator. The sunset has seen me at my most hollow and my most whole. It has not abandoned me in my unwashed pajamas, nor has it flinched when I’ve celebrated with champagne.

The sunset doesn’t care if I’m surviving or thriving. It just arrives. And isn't there something sacred about crying into a sunset? The way the horizon seems to drink your tears, folding them into the ocean of color as though to say, “Don’t worry, love, even this heartbreak will dissolve into light.” It’s not that the sunset heals heartbreak. But it makes heartbreak bearable.

I’ve studied enough of the nervous system to know that our bodies crave rhythm, patterns, and safe repetition. That’s how healing begins: not in the fireworks but in the gentle consistency of something trustworthy. And what is more trustworthy than the sunset? Research shows that watching natural phenomena—sunsets, waves, trees moving in the wind—activates the parasympathetic nervous system, the part of us that whispers, “You are safe, you can exhale now.” Joe Dispenza talks about how elevated emotions combined with coherent brain-heart patterns can reprogram our reality. I think of sunsets as the purest example: a daily invitation to regulate, to realign, to soften into coherence.

My body knows this. My soul knows this. The sunset is my nervous system’s lullaby.

The sunset doesn’t demand devotion, yet it receives mine effortlessly. It doesn’t care if I’ve brushed my teeth or if I’m spiritually evolved. It just shows up, burning, melting, surrendering, every day.

One day, I will die. This body will stop chasing mangoes and rooftops and journals. The people I loved might forget the exact shape of my laugh. But even then, the sunset will still exist. Maybe someone I once loved will look up and see the same colors I once cried into. Maybe someone will remember me in that blaze of orange and pink. Or maybe not. Maybe the sunset will simply continue its sacred work: ending the day with beauty. And that’s enough.

Because here’s the secret I’ve learned after all these years of running, loving, breaking, and rebuilding: I don’t need permanence in people or places. I don’t need forever promises or unshakable certainty. I don’t need the fantasy of “always” from human mouths. I have the sunset..and that is more than enough.