I’ll admit that I wasn’t expecting much out of Senior Sunrise. The concept was cute, but the weather forecast for 6 a.m. that day was not. And what’s a senior sunrise without a sunrise? Encouraged by my friends, however, skeptical though I was myself, I decided to start my year off strong by setting an alarm for 5:30. I’ll attend if I can bring myself to get up, I told myself.

Tuesday morning dawned, and I woke up to the feeling of nausea. As my alarm cut through the fog of sleep, I looked outside and saw a sky that was overcast, as the weather app had predicted. Was this the long-promised senior sunrise? Were the clouds an omen of the doom and gloom that was on the horizon? 

Omen or not, I could only proceed with getting ready, since I’d already paid the $10 admission. Perhaps to pacify us for the cost, the event had been advertised beforehand on Instagram, garnished by promises that the morning would be accompanied by breakfast burritos. 

Like ASB, Mother Nature did the best she could—as 250 hungry seniors descended onto the football field, a low-hanging fog did too. Even as my weather app announced that the sun had already risen, the sky stayed a shade of gray that was strikingly reminiscent of a coming apocalypse. 

And yet it was under this overhead apocalypse that we huddled together and laughed at each other. While we waited for the clouds to break, most of my fellow seniors talked and laughed  in clusters of friends. 

As I sat on a beach blanket and tried to eat my burrito in a way that wouldn’t have it falling apart all over me, some other seniors had begun exploring the various diversions that the event organizers had left on the field, namely pickleball equipment and footballs. People milled around, forming and reforming different groups that scattered apart to talk to new people.

In the graying light, I got to see classmates who I’d not set eyes on since the last school year. I got to hug friends and take photos with them. If I’m being honest, if I look back on that morning, what I’m going to remember most is not the lukewarm scrambled eggs and the dry, floury tortilla. I’m not going to see sunrises and be instantly reminded of the scrumptious balance of healthy fat and sodium that bacon and avocado create. Instead, I can close my eyes and feel the wet air kiss my cheeks, hear the sonorous blast of the upbeat music. I can remember the laughter of my friends, how the cold induced us to huddle together under a single plush blue blanket.

Despite the lack of a sunrise, we started off the new year on our best foot. There we were, 6 a.m. on the day before school started, waiting for a sunrise that wasn’t coming, eating burritos that tasted like nothing. Was it worth $10? Debatable, but friendship is just one of those things you can’t put a price on, isn’t it? We couldn’t see the sunrise, but at least we got to see each other.