SUNSETS AND NORTHERN LIGHTS

The sunset that evening was spectacular. Sarah called it a “Lisa Frank Sunset” and I don’t think there is a more appropriate description. We witnessed the electric pinks of the setting sun from the deck of the ferry as we traveled back to Woods Hole from Martha’s Vineyard. It was so cold and windy that I would have to take breaks, ducking inside to warm up before jumping back out into the wind for more pictures. This moment and then on our last morning when we stopped at the beach so I could get lighthouse pictures are two moments of joy on my timeline map, stuck in with thumbtacks. Both times, my camera was in my hands and up to my face and I was snapping away.

The night of the Lisa Frank Sunset, I got restless and walked outside. I looked up at the sky and could see brushstrokes of pink still lingering in the clouds. I thought it was leftover sunset and since I wasn’t really in a good spot for taking pictures, I didn’t bother. When I finally went back inside, I sat on my bed scrolling through Instagram. Chad shared an image of the Northern Lights taken by a friend and it suddenly hit me. I texted Chad to ask where his friend was and he quickly sent back an answer. His friend had taken the picture in Massachusetts. I hadn’t witnessed lingering sunset. I had been staring up at the Northern Lights the whole time and didn’t even know it.

And I didn’t take any pictures.

Months ago, when I dragged Michael out to Smithville lake to see the Northern Lights, the only way we could see them was through the camera lens. We saw nothing with our naked eyes. This is why I am not sad about not capturing any images from last Thursday’s solar flare event. Seeing the Northern Lights with my eyes is something I never thought I’d get to see or experience. So often, when we think of things we can’t imagine living through or experiencing, they are the negative life experiences. “I can’t imagine…” “I could never…” I don’t know how anyone could….” All of those sentences end in a description of destruction and loss. What if I started flipping this narrative? Not just flipping it, but making it happen?

I can’t imagine ever seeing the Northern Lights. Check

I can’t imagine eating a baguette while gazing up at the Eiffel Tower.

I can’t imagine ever having the kitchen of my dreams.

I can’t imagine watching the sunset over the Grand Canyon. Check

I can’t imagine going to Ireland with my mother. Check

I can’t imagine doing anything more than just taking the picture. Check

I can’t imagine ever seeing a moose.

I can’t imagine checking off everything from my list because my list will just keep growing. In the meantime, I will place another thumbtack in my mental timeline and start linking all the other thumbtacks together with string. Then I can pluck the strings and let the memories vibrate through my soul.