A Perfect Night In Pompano

Last night’s SpaceX launch from Cape Canaveral was one of those moments where patience quietly turns into reward.

I headed out at 11:15 PM. The launch was scheduled for 12:15 AM, and the full moon was already high, washing the ocean and the sand in a pale, almost unreal light. Walking along the beach, I passed a small group gathered around a campfire. They laughed and talked as the waves rolled in. I couldn’t help but think they must have wondered what I was doing, carrying camera gear across the beach in the middle of the night.

The moonlight was so strong that I never even turned on my flashlight. The sand glowed, every footprint visible, the shoreline clearly defined. I found a perfect spot near some rocks by the inlet, set up, and checked my phone.

Delayed.

Then delayed again.

Time stretched. The ocean kept breathing in and out. The lighthouse beam swept the horizon again and again, steady and indifferent to schedules. At 1:48 AM, after hours of waiting, it finally happened.

An orange glow appeared low in the blue night sky, like a firework igniting in slow motion. The rocket rose cleanly, powerfully, cutting upward as if pulling a line of fire behind it. As it climbed, it passed the lighthouse, and I fired off a series of images. The exhaust plumes began to bloom and spread, painting soft shapes against the dark.

For one brief moment, everything aligned. The lighthouse beam swung into place, perfectly angled, as if turning to watch the rocket’s farewell. Sea, sky, light, and motion came together.

I took the shot.

Sometimes you plan carefully. Sometimes you wait longer than expected. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, the universe meets you halfway and lines everything up for just a second.