Every summer of my life since I can remember, my family has gone to our island in Maine. It is ten miles out to see in Penobscot Bay, and it’s called Leadbetter’s. Perhaps the most amazing thing about Leadbetter’s is how little it changes year to year. We have the same warm caretaker, the same weatherworn boathouse, the same breathtaking fire sunsets. The only thing that is different when we return each summer, I’ve realized, is myself. When I think of memory, I am instantly flooded with images and past experiences that I’ve had on the island. The most powerful memory I have is of something that I do with my dad and my siblings each year. No matter much I may have grown and changed in the time in between summers, I still can’t help but be moved by this one activity: chasing the sunset.
It usually happens as we are eating dinner — someone will look out the window and notice that the sky is burning. Food forgotten, we run down the hill to the dock as fast as we can, not wanting to miss a moment. For a while, we are content to just stand on the dock, watching. Sky aflame, I can pick out every color of the rainbow: bright red, rose, orange, yellow, indigo, blue, and even green. The colors drip down into the water and reflect back at us. When we notice that the colors are beginning to recede into the horizon, it is time to take action. My dad and I untie the boat and I claim riding right in the middle of the bow. From my position, I can stick myself out farthest from the boat like a mermaid figurehead on old sailing ships. My brothers and sisters and I shout for my dad to go faster — we want to catch up with the sunset. When I stick out my tongue, I taste salt. My hair whips my face as we increase speed and the ocean sprays me from time to time, heightening the chase.
We follow the sunset for as long as we can — on the sides of the boat, I notice that the sky is purple. My dad gradually slows down and we drift in the middle of the ocean for a while, watching the sun sink into the hills and listening to the water lap at the boat. We take a few pictures: our hair wild and sticky with salt, our smiles easy, our eyes full.
On our way back, my dad lets me drive a little bit, or one of my siblings. I turn around several times to see the fading red and gold and pink sky. When I turn forward again, all is violet, then deep purple, then black. Later that night, as I’m falling asleep to foghorns and clanging buoys, I can still taste the salt water. I can hear the motor running and the boat slicing through waves. Every color of the sunset is imprinted indelibly on my mind.
I can still feel the thrill of the chase.
Sarah Montgomery, 17, is a summer resident of Leadbetter’s Island, Vinalhaven.