MOVING THE CLOCK TWICE A YEAR IS A TIME TO RESET

I love clock change day the way Lorelai Gilmore loves the first day of snow, which is to say: a lot.

Unlike my beloved New England-based “Gilmore Girls” characters who mark the various seasons with snow, crunchy leaves and springtime carnivals, here in San Diego, our only reliable way to note seasonal change is when we “spring forward” and “fall back.”

Sure, as a San Diego native I recognize that we have our own version of seasons: jacaranda trees blooming, May Gray, the first day of the San Diego County Fair, and those few weeks in September when the beaches are free of tourists. But we can’t rely on those things — not every June will be hazy and not every Halloween will be the hottest day, ever.

What we can count on is that twice a year, the clock will either move forward or backward.

One of my happiest childhood memories is going to Baskin-robbins with my mom and grandmother on the night we “sprang forward.” I remember how marvelous it was that even though it was past my bedtime, the sky was light pink and orange, the same color as the sorbet. It felt so magical eating ice cream and being out late — a simple joy I’ve tried to hold on to every year since.

Which is why I’m completely opposed to making daylight saving time permanent. How can you marvel at a late sunset if it’s always there?

Besides the first day of school, which many of us no longer have, moving the clock twice a year also gives us something to anticipate. It’s a time to reset. A time to set goals: the spring cleaning of the house, or going on more walks. It’s a way to check in on those New Year’s resolutions, or make new seasonal goals.

Having those two days a year to interrupt the day-to-day routine is an important, positive part of my life. I’d hate for that to be taken away because once a year

we lose an hour of sleep.

I understand the various arguments about why we should eliminate time changes — it’s better for health, better for the economy, just better all around.

I know losing an hour of sleep is a big deal and adjusting to new rhythms is difficult, especially for young children and the elderly. I remember when my daughters were young, that first week after moving the clock forward was a total mess. We were all cranky and tired and at least one of us had a meltdown every night.

Then there was an incident when I was 21 that made me curse the changing of the clocks.

I was at a pretty epic Halloween party and stayed out way too late. The next morning, despite feeling awful, I got up to be at my receptionist job by 9 a.m. Only when I arrived, the doors were locked and everything was empty. I forgot to set my clock back (in the days before iphones). I went back to my car and cried that entire extra hour I could have been sleeping.

Still, that didn’t kill my enthusiasm for time changes. Over time, I’ve actually started to appreciate them more.

And as I’ve grown older, I’ve even become a fan of standard time — I get just as excited about a 4 p.m. sunset as an 8 p.m. one. (It also helps that since 2007, daylight saving time moved to March and we really only get standard time for four months out of the year.)

I love bright winter mornings. There’s nothing more motivating to get out of bed for an early work day than the sun shining through the window. But if daylight saving time becomes permanent, you can say goodbye to that. People with traditional nine-to-five schedules will no longer have naturally-lit mornings because sunrises will happen much later in the day. Plus, you won’t really make up for it in the evening because in the winter there just isn’t as much sun.

I’m sure I’d feel differently if I lived in a place with true seasons. Perhaps if a magical blanket of snow could reset my winter, or a hay bale maze put me in a spring mood the way it does in the “Gilmore Girls” town of Stars Hollow, I’d be all for keeping one set time all year.

But I live in the reality of Southern California, where once a year I celebrate the first sunset of daylight saving time, and once a year I enjoy the quiet, first early morning walk of standard time. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.