Recently, Dewayne and I drove south into and throughout all of the Florida keys only to have to retreat north again the following day. This drive was much more final than the first. Instead of exclaiming our presence and falling victim to our anticipation, we whispered our goodbyes quietly with each stretch of land and sea. On the road to mainland, we searched between the mile markers for one last glimpse of an oceanside sunset. We were in the birthplace of sunsets, afterall.

It didn’t take much searching for us to register that most of the islands’ western coasts were privately owned. And with this realization, the air in the car became denser and the light all around us moved at a pace we couldn’t quite compete with. Still, we drove and we watched the sky in envy as it prepared for its grand finale. Our spontaneous style leads us on unimaginable adventures, no doubt, but the risk we take is that sometimes we might just barely miss the most beautiful sunset known to man.

As I drive I imagine the sun taking his final bow of the evening and the moon lighting up the stage with her radiant glow. She’s hanging around all night carrying on conversations with old friends and strangers alike. In the morning light their memories will be blurred by the suns morning rays. He’s fully charged now thanks to a long nights rest granted by his tide tugging companion, the moon. The elation that was the night has faded away with the buzz of cheap wine and poorly rolled joints.

Approaching our last island, I realized how the fear of missing the perfect sunset had began robbing us of our joy. In an attempt to restore the moment, I spoke up. “Let’s just relax and enjoy the drive. If we come across somewhere to stop, awesome, but if not, the drive is absolutely stunning anyway.” “Yeah, you’re right.”

So I focused on the present and became more aware of my surroundings. I found appreciation for the beauty right under my nose. I caught glimpses of the light playing on two bodies of water at once. This in itself was magical. It’s as if you’re a kid straddling two state lines for the first time, feeling like you’ve just discovered a superpower of being in two places at once. However, rather than two states, for me, it was these two underwater galaxies separated by a tiny strip of land. And here they were being unmasked by this golden light all around me.

We continued on in soft silence, each of us still scanning the horizon for glimpses of beach, masking our anticipation more acutely than before. Dewayne must have caught a sliver of beach when he shouted out, “Turn around!” So I followed his directions, did what was probably an illegal u-turn in the middle of US 1, and ended up in a seemingly abandoned Salvation Army parking lot. I put the car in park next to a discarded (or maybe donated) queen size mattress.

Behind the building we found a tall, rusty chain link fence that held it’s arms wide open, exclaiming “Come in! I’ve been waiting here for a while.” Obviously knowing the polite thing to do, we welcomed the invitation and crossed the threshhold into the embrace of the ocean’s breeze. We could now hear faint voices being carried to us on the shoulders of the wind. It only made sense for us to trust the locals, so we pursued the voices with a little direction from our new friends.

A short walk later and we were able to match the mysterious voices to both patrons and staff of a dreamy tiki paradise. Some palm trees told us of how they had been eagerly awaiting our arrival. They showed us to a fire that had been prepared for us with two adironback chairs positioned just close enough to prevent chill bumps when the breeze rolls to shore. From our new seats we were granted with a brilliant performance in the sky. The clouds danced in sync with the Cirque du Soleil while the bay proudly reflected the production on its glassy waters for the entire audience to see.

Margarita in hand, I glance over at my partner only to find his gaze is already fixed on me. Neither of us spoke, the light in our eyes said it all. Magic.