When I was in high school, I took part in the Earth Science Club. Strangely, there were no regular weekly activities, but a few times each semester, the club hosted an overnight stargazing session. About thirty of us would stay up late in one of the classrooms, regularly going up to the rooftop observatory to watch the stars.
Located in the middle of a big city, the star-gazing part wasn’t so spectacular except when our teacher let us see the moon or some other planets through the telescope. But the sunrise was something I always looked forward to.
After a troublesome sleep on the concrete floor, I would wake up before dawn and walk back to the rooftop with my friends. There, each wrapped in a sleeping bag, we would wait for the sun to come out.
The change was sudden. One moment, it was still dark. Then, the next moment, the edge of the sky turned purple and pink until the first ray of light spilled from the horizon. The light quickly touched upon all the buildings in its way, and soon, the familiar scenery would emerge underneath us.
It was a magical moment when everything familiar carried the wonder of a new creation. The beginning of a new day.