There is a connection between sunrisers just because they are sunrisers. It's a shared, yet unspoken, appreciation for all things peaceful and comforting. That might explain why I was immediately drawn to him, but I know it wasn't just because of the morning. Kayden, you see, would have attracted me no matter the time of day.

The first time I laid my eyes on him I was sitting there, at my favorite secret spot, overlooking Portage Bay. It's a beautiful place to be in Alaska owned by a woman who goes by Scott. Before that day, if I had my way, no one would ever sit and admire its beauty other than me.

The bay, a destination point for fishermen, swimmers, and sightseers, is nature at its best. It is located on the eastern arm of Lake Union. It isn't easy to find, even if you're looking for it. Once discovered, even the most magnanimous outdoorsmen will keep the secret to themselves. In an era where, too often, free time is wasted in front of a flat screen TV, Portage Bay is a reminder of the reasons for taking vacations and the sunrise over the bay is God's definition of a blessing.

That particular trip occurred in early summer. I remember it vividly because I had to be in place just after 5:00 a.m. to catch the sun as it appeared over the mountain. Summer is the best time to watch the sunrise because no one in their right mind would be up early enough, nor would be hardy enough to make the journey to my secret spot. No one except me, and Kayden.

"Is this seat taken?"

Not many people can remember the first words spoken by or to the love of their life, but I absolutely can. That morning, as I turned to see from where the unexpected voice was coming, the first light of dawn revealed the most sexy man I had ever laid eyes on. Not all women might have thought so. Kayden wasn't muscular, wore  ripped jeans, and a dirty white t-shirt. His hair, perfectly auburn, looked as if it hadn't been touched since he rolled out of bed that morning. It was obvious that had made no effort to look handsome and yet he had an inner spark that couldn't be hidden. Not by tattered jeans or an ugly t-shirt. Something changed that first moment I saw him.. I changed. I had spent years guarding my secret spot, and now, surprisingly, unexpectedly, delightfully, I wanted nothing more than to share my sunrise with this man.

I, unfortunately, was not born a poet and as such the most romantic thing I could think of in response to his inquiry was: "It's a free state." With that, he invaded my secret spot, both next to the bay and in my heart.

The silence that followed was both loud and revealing. Kayden wasn't there for small talk; he was there to admire the beauty of sunrise. We sat in silence and watched as the sun peeked over the horizon, covering the two of us in its warming light. He and I carried on a conversation without words. He told me, silently, that he understood the importance of the moment, and I responded in kind that this moment was made all the more special because he was there to share it.

Perfection is a goal impossible to realize in this mortal realm, but that morning came as close as is humanly possible. So many thoughts ran through my mind as the sun revealed itself completely. Then just as quickly and quietly as he had come, Kayden rose to his feet, wiped some residual dirt from the seat of his ripped jeans, and headed down the trail and out of my sight.

Eight words verbalized, an infinite number of potential events contemplated. Thirty minutes had passed, a lifetime had been imagined. I was sure I would never see him again, and the thought made me overwhelmingly sad.

The next five years came and went, five long years since that day at the lake. There were first dates, first kisses, and the words "I love you" exchanged, yet every time fate or intention would reach down and sabotage promise. I became determined to find peace in my solitude.

There was always a reason or an excuse for my ending every potential relationship, but at its core was a shared sunrise and a conversation that didn't happen.

I went to our spot from time to time, to see the sunrise, not for him. At least, that's what I told myself. I had given up without realizing I was hoping. Hoping to see him again. Hoping to feel what I felt that day. Hoping he would be there. And then it happened. It was once again summer, it was sunrise, but this time he was there.

"Is this seat taken?"

"It's a free state."

The same eight words.

At the time, I didn't know that he, too, had often made the trip back to our secret spot.

Seeing him again, I knew I wouldn't let the opportunity slip from my grasp, not a second time. When the sun had completed its part in our play, Kayden rose to his feet and wiped the dirt from his jeans exactly as he had done five years earlier. This time, however, I stood up as well. 

"My name is Kelly. I'm not a big fan of Starbucks, but I'd really like to have a cup with you."

"My name is Kayden," he responded, matter-of-factly, "and I would be glad to share a cup of Joe with you."

He called it Joe? It's funny the things that confirm that a love is real. I couldn't tell him that day, for fear of losing him, but at that moment, I was sure. I had said "I love you" to others before, but it was obvious to me that I had lied. For in that moment, I was finally sure what love felt like.

Lifetimes are only lifetimes when viewed in reverse. A cup of coffee became a dinner date. A dinner date became a trip back to my house. A trip back to my house became a proposal, and a proposal became forever. There were kids and dogs and vacations, but more than anything, there were trips to Portage Bay. Always at sunrise. Always just the two of us. Never any words spoken.

You never know the last time is the last time until it's too late. The final trip we took to Portage Bay was like all the rest. It took a little longer for tired, old bones to make the trek, but we found our spot, sat together, and conversed in silence. The sun, unaffected by time, rose as perfectly as always, but Kayden rose only with my help. 

"Would you like to share a cup of Joe?"

He knew I did. He knew sitting next to him pretending to like coffee was my greatest pleasure. He also knew he would never come back to see another sunrise even though I was too stubborn to admit it to myself.

That day in the café, we told stories of family and friends, living and lost, as we sipped on what had eventually become my favorite beverage. We made a mental scorecard of our life and realized we had won.

Two days later I lost him to a heart attack. Just like that first day at the lake, I watched him as he left me alone, this time without even the hope of returning. The sadness I felt from years back flooded over me like a tidal wave.

I'll save a seat for you. Those were his last words to me. True to myself, I replied: "It's a free country." Then, he was gone.

One day, hopefully soon, I will watch the sunrise with my Kayden again only from a far better secret place. Until then, I only go to our special spot at night.

I'm never alone when I go there. I make my way to our clearing and sit down just as I did all those years ago. As the moon reflects off the lake, I feel his comforting hand reach down for me, and in the silence only we understand, I hear him very clearly.