Brightness After The Dark

With my flashlight that's running low on battery, I went down the root-stepped path to the narrow wooden dock where I keep the rowboat. I went out before the first light of day with a boat floating silently through mist that rose from the water.

By the time I reached the middle of the lake, where a cold wind blow through the door and a good chunk of darkness had pushed its way into the moon. Yellow bright light poured through the windows of the shoreline cottages, wavering on the waters like banners.

Then ;
My little boat drifted in a wide slow circle. There had been a breeze when I started out, but it had died and now the water stretched out flat beyond me. I leaned against the seat. High in the center of the sky, the moon had gone. The moon was fully dark. Darkness.

I vanished into blackness as I drifted alone under the dome of sky, until the magic of a midnight eclipse.

Suddenly, the air moved again and brought current back to the water, making tiny waves tap the boat gently. The moon. It grew wider and light fell back down onto the water with the glitter of silvery stars dropped to earth.

I knew then why I had come. Not to see the earth go dark, but to see the light come back again. Light in my soul. I sat up and set the oars into the water. With strong sweeping strokes, I rowed back to the dock in the broadening light.