It was in Crescent Head, NSW, Australia.
I’d gone camping with my ex (he’d dropped the bomb a couple of days before in the Outback, if you can believe it) and he had access to a lovely cottage near this tiny town on the ocean. We got there and I was, understandably, in one of the worst funks of my life. If I’d had a car and was able to drive off, I would have, but there I was with this dude in a gorgeous log house who was trying to act as if nothing had changed between us, except, oh, yeah, he’d just broken up with me, and I was stuck with him for the time being.
The three days we were at the house, the weather was bad. Lightning, thunder, torrential rain, the works. But on the morning of the 4th day, I got up, looked out the window and saw the cerulean blue that indicated that the sun was coming. The house wasn’t far from the ocean. I left ex-guy sleeping, went outside, down the hill and over the roadway to the beach and I watched the sun rise. Despite myself, I knew I would feel better anon as I watched it come up. I loved how the clouds were pink and orange and magenta as the sun first peeked and then streaked across the horizon.
I actually dreamed about that sun after I came back to the US. Aussies, you have a beautiful country. I hope to see it again someday.