Here, people gather when the sun is two hands-breadths above the horizon.

This is the only place I've ever been where watching the the day end is a group event. Thirty minutes or so beforehand, people gather on the seawall or the beach and sit in Adirondack chairs. They have drinks in their hands and chitchat on their lips.

There's a relaxed glow. Some of from the pink darkening the horizon. Some from the clear blue water stretching out for visible miles. Some from being in this lovely place for another day. Some from the dissolved salt in the air.

We have been lucky enough to witness some remarkable passages of the sun against mountains, sandstone, grassy plains. We’ve been in places where it consumes the entire landscape and you can see the curvature of the earth. We’ve been in places where dusk creeps in mid afternoon because the mountains are so high.

Today, it slips through three layers of linear clouds. It’s playing peekaboo. In the last few moments, I am suddenly aware of just how fast the earth is actually rotating. My feet feel unsteadiness where never before. Suddenly the planet, this thing on which I have spent every moment of my life, is not as solid as it once was. I am moving and the sun is still. My equilibrium is off. I feel like I’m falling in the gentlest of ways.

The light fans out, reflects on the water, and fades. Everyone present claps. Two of them have conch shells that they raise to their lips and blow. It’s a marine sound, the kind you expect in a place filled with rusted metal, from a body with leathery skin, in an atmosphere of crushing risk.

At first I thought this tradition silly. Applause for the sun when it’s doing what it does? Odd. Like clapping for myself for inhaling.

But after a week of these nights, I find myself looking forward to it. Where else do you stop and marvel with so many strangers at your side? Even when stargazing, everyone might be looking at different constellations and patterns.

So here, we clap for the sun. We blow the shell for the day’s close. We dissipate back to our temporary homes and say see you later to the people we just sat beside.

Perhaps we were clapping for ourselves too. We made it through another day. We had another day to make it through. A few seconds of celebration for what we were just able and willing to witness.

Inspired by events in Vaca Key, Florida.