|Almost close enough to touch|
Way over London, ON
We discuss the observational differences between airplanes and satellites, and the optical mess known as the atmosphere. We talk about how big the station is, who lives on it, and why we still wave despite the fact that they can't see us so far below. I listen to their chatter, and realize they know infinitely more at their age than I knew way back when.
Finally they spot the moving dot low on the horizon as it emerges from a stand of trees. It brightens as it silently climbs toward us. The Dragon capsule, which launched from Cape Canaveral yesterday on top of a Falcon 9 (SpaceX page, wiki) rocket and is scheduled for rendez-vous tomorrow at 7:14 a.m. ET, isn't visible here. But we still know it's there, chasing the station through the inky blackness, and we make plans to gather around the laptop in the morning to watch the capture and docking.
I shoot as many 15-second exposures as I possibly can. Not because a smudge of light on a dark background makes for a particularly compelling photo. But because I want them to be able to look at the picture someday and feel what it was like to be outside on this night. Because photos make it easier to relive moments you don't want to forget.
In the overall scheme of things, I realize it's a moment that doesn't necessarily shake the earth. We gathered on a dark sidewalk on a cold, clear night and stared up at a moving white spot of light in the sky for a few fleeting minutes before it flew into the planet's shadow and winked out. But I'd like to think our kids somehow added to their growing list of life experiences. No matter how small they may be, when they all get added up someday, I hope they find them meaningful. And I hope their future is filled many more moments on sidewalks.
Your turn: Got a small memory from your own childhood?