Away we Go: The Rocket and the Moon

Night was well past its midpoint when our pre-set alarms went off.

The five minute walk to the fishing pier gave us time to blink half the night's grogginess away. We wrapped our shirts more closely around ourselves. There were a handful of people already on the docks. Some with chairs, some with high-powered birding binoculars, some with cameras, some with just themselves.

We all checked our phones to see if this was still a go. The launch had been delayed earlier in the evening thanks to a line of classic thunderstorms that apparently arise and retreat as quickly on this coast as they do in the Midwest.

Our numbers tripled in the final five minutes. There was curious chatter and temporary camaraderie. A little bit of posturing by the men about who knew what, had seen what, and was the better armchair astronaut. I learned that launches can be cancelled up until the last forty five seconds before the fuel is ignited. After that, there is no going back.

It was close to time. The moon filtering through each vertical layer of clouds was the only source of illumination. The launch pad’s blinking lights indicated where we should be looking. We counted down and reached one with no apparent event.

But then.

It was as if the most spectacular parts of the first hour of sunrise were compressed into a handful of seconds. It was the kind of light where all details are lost. Then the rocket ascended behind a cloud and instead of disappearing, turned that cloud into a lampshade. It threw bits of light to every molecule and diffused as it rose through one, two, three sets of cumulus.

Then dark returned. The moon did what it had always done. Not overly impressed by this tiny little infant light-creator. Blowing all that smoke and only luminous for a few seconds. Whereas it has reflected the sun over millennia and more. No; this was a blip. Perhaps one of these things would spark and arrive at it’s surface but that would be only a brief moment in the arc of time as well. It would continue on its circular path uninterrupted by such minor occurrences.

The people drifted away after the sound finally reached us and the light faded away. It was 1 am after all. My god, we had all just exclaimed. Now, it was goodnight.

We returned to our beds and closed our eyes with stars in them.

Inspired by events in Port St. John, Florida.