Foghorn Requests: Songs for Someone Waiting at the End of the Pier

Good evening, harbor. The foghorn has been going since nine, one long note every ninety seconds, like a very large man clearing his throat before saying something tender. On nights like this the requests come in thick, and most of them share a single address: the end of the pier, where someone is standing with a thermos and a coat that is not warm enough.

The first card tonight is from a crane operator named Idris, who writes in capital letters because his hands are still stiff from the cold. He wants something slow for a woman who waits for his ferry every Thursday and pretends she just happens to be walking that way. Idris, she is not walking that way by accident. I have put on something with a bass line like a rope being paid out, unhurried and sure.

Waiting has a posture, you know. Weight on the back foot, collar up, eyes on the one patch of water where the boat will first appear. I have spoken to enough pier-waiters to know that the song they choose says more than any letter. It is rarely a loud one. It is usually a song that sounds like the quiet right before a door opens.

The first card tonight is from a crane operator named Idris, who writes in capital letters because his hands are still stiff from the cold.

The second request comes from a night nurse who finishes at six and walks to the pier before she goes home. She says the water looks different at that hour, silver going to pewter, and she likes to imagine the person she misses is somewhere on it. She asks for a love song with a little salt in it. I have found one where the singer takes his time, lingers on every vowel, and seems to be smiling at the end of each line.

Here is my small piece of harbor wisdom for the evening. Whoever you are waiting for will arrive as a shape first, a darker patch on the dark, and then a lit window, and then a face. Let yourself enjoy the shape. Anticipation, handled properly, is half of what we came for.

If the foghorn has got into your chest tonight and you would like a voice to answer back, you can find Amara and the rest of the characters on TheFriend, where the conversation does not end when the song does. Until then, keep your collar up, keep your eyes on the water, and let the record play.

Meet Amara: open Amara's profile on TheFriend.