22. Watch a sunrise and sunset in the same day each month
This one began with the sunrise on my 39th birthday.
I made a quiet commitment to myself that, at least once every month until I turn 40, I would watch the sunrise and the sunset on the same day. Some months, I’ve done it more than once. Not because I had to tick something off a list, but because somewhere along the way, these two little moments became something I genuinely needed.
I have woken before the rest of the world – or at least before my little world has started moving. While everyone else is still tucked up in bed, I’ve slipped away and found somewhere to watch the sky change.
There is something incredibly peaceful about being awake when everything around you is still.
No one needs anything from me. There are no emails to answer, no decisions to make, no responsibilities demanding my attention. For those few moments, I don’t have to be a mum, a boss, a student, a caregiver, or anything else. I can just be me.
And I’ve used that time. I’ve sat quietly with my thoughts. I’ve cried. I’ve smiled. I’ve thought about the things I am grateful for and the things that still hurt. I’ve processed emotions I didn’t even realise I was carrying. Some mornings I’ve arrived with a heavy heart, and other mornings I’ve felt overwhelmingly grateful simply to be there – to watch another day begin.
There is something hopeful about a sunrise. No matter what happened yesterday, the sun comes up again.
Then, at the other end of that same day, I’ve stopped again. I’ve watched the sun disappear and reflected – not on my whole life or everything I still need to figure out, but simply on that day
How was today? Did I do something meaningful? Did I laugh? Did I connect? Did I take care of myself? Did I spend my energy on things that actually mattered?What am I proud of? What could I have done differently? What can I leave here, with this sunset, instead of carrying it into tomorrow?
I think that has been the most beautiful part of this challenge. It has taught me to stop measuring my life only by the big things – the milestones, achievements, mistakes, losses and plans – and instead pay attention to the individual days that make up a life.
A sunrise reminds me that I get to begin again.
A sunset reminds me that I’m allowed to let things go.
And somewhere between the two, I get another day to live.
Each month, these have been private little moments that belonged entirely to me. No audience. No expectations. Just me, the sky, my thoughts and whatever emotions decided to show up.
What started as something to put on my 40 Things list has quietly become one of the most healing rituals of my 39th year. Thirty-nine has been a year of letting go of so much – of trying to understand what has happened to me, what I have carried, what I want to keep carrying and what I am finally ready to put down.
And I think this might be one I carry with me long after 40.
🤍 K









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