Friday Night Light


We’ve ridden the ferry most Friday nights all winter long. We make those trips in the dark. Now the spring is pulling the daylight further and further into the evening, rolling the darkness back a minute or two every night. Right now, getting on the boat at 8 or so, we see a twilight show, with the harbor lit up in the dusk, but with the light going fast. The picture above? One of the stern running lights on the ferry; I was pointing my camera at it to trick the light sensor into giving me a faster shutter speed for something I wanted to shoot on the water (no–the camera is sort of broken and I can’t set the shutter speed manually). The light looked good in the viewfinder, so I shot it, too.

And it’s late–late Friday, early Saturday. I’m looking out at a world full of small kindnesses, and I try to take not one for granted, though I always do; and at a world full of deep loss, sadness, and hurt, far and near, that I can’t do nearly enough to ease. That light in the viewfinder–to some other eye, a light across the water of a deepening evening–strikes me as a comforting, maybe even hopeful, sign.

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