Comings & Goings

I'll leave a light on...

It’s been a busy few weeks of traveling and such in my otherwise ordinary life, and while I started to feel guilty about missing two weeks of posts, I was also out looking for my muse or my groove or whatever it is I lost that left me twiddling my thumbs at the keyboard. A long conversation with a colleague on my way home from work Monday night, with topics ranging from the World Cup, writing, nursing, and life in general, seems to have remedied that.

After a hot shower, I was too sleepy to write so I set my alarm for a bit earlier than I usually rise for work. As I stumbled to the kitchen shortly before sunrise, I saw this light in — well, in a whole new light.

My husband and I are currently living between two homes as we slowly move from there to here. Last winter, I decided that I didn’t want to come home to a dark house after work. I purchased one of those timer gadgets and figured out how to program it all on my own! I’ll admit it’s not an exact science, but now when I come home there’s a soft glow to greet me that stays on for several hours and turns off automatically before I go to bed at night.

Recently, I had to reset the timer after a power outage. Again the exact time doesn’t matter, and I don’t know precisely what I did to make it happen, but I noticed a few weeks ago that it comes back on at some point around 4am for about an hour. I usually get up for work at 4:30am, and it’s been a comforting glow in the solitary, wee hours as I start my day. It makes me feel as though someone I love is waiting up for me to join them for a morning cuppa. I recall the memory of waking up and finding Dad already sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, and it makes me smile.

Last night, I attended a wonderful concert in Nashville with a friend and arrived home late yet elated, but to find that the lamp had already turned off and the entryway was dark. It was a lonely feeling. It was then that I realized the quiet value of leaving a light on, to welcome us home and comfort us.

These days, I can choose to live in the light and strive to be that light for another.

The kettle is on — welcome home.