The old man with the WWII bugle faithfully blows out "Taps" as the orange globe sinks into the sea. A crowd has gathered 'round to celebrate the awe of a sunset that seems just a little more miraculous in this place. Perhaps it's because we're all so relaxed that we appreciate it more or perhaps it's the tradition of the "Bugle Man" playing each evening, directing us to gaze westward. Whatever the reason, I worship the Creator more readily when I feel I can reach out over that big ocean and hold the sun in my hands for a little while. We dance long on the beach and bend to pick up some valuable pieces of the Great Blue's gifts and turn them over in our palms until there's not even a faint glow of the sun to keep us warm. Then, it's dusting sand off our feet and cozying up with sun-kissed children inside, only to wake up and do it all over again.
So very thankful.