As a kid, cross-country moves were one of the few times I woke up early enough to see the sun rise. My parents used to load me and my sisters—still blurry-eyed and pajama-clad—into the minivan before dawn, that way we’d (hopefully) fall back asleep and they could have a few hours of peaceful driving without sibling bickering. I remember opening my eyes as the dusky night sky melted into rainbow Sherbet streaks, relieved to know that the darkness was almost over. The sunrise on a long drive fr...