Let There be Light

When the days got shorter and I started driving home in the dark, I started keeping a small flashlight in the dashboard of the truck.  I arrange my drive home so that I drive by the mailbox and retrieve my mail as if I were at a drive thru, through the window.  When it's dark, I can't see if I've gotten all my mail.  The flashlight shines light into the back of the mailbox, and is an invaluable thing to have in the dark of the winter.

This flashlight is pink to remind me that I've painted red nail polish over the lens.  In the summer, I use this light to look at star charts in the yard when I'm out gazing at the stars.  After my eyes have adjusted to the dark, the red light allows me to read the star chart without casting a bright glare.  As much as possible, I sleep under the stars, flashlight and star chart close at hand.  Virtually every single time, I am surprised by the dew, sopping wet as I wake up, swearing to remember it ... next time.

Except that I didn't sleep outside at all last year.  It somehow managed to rain or be cloudy every single weekend night for all of June, July and August.  Maybe this year I will try to sleep outside on a weeknight.  The sun will wake me up, I will take a shower and go into work.  Heaven, except for the getting dressed up to go sit in a cubicle part.

The big news is that now that the great wheel has turned towards spring, I don't need this flashlight any more in the truck.  There is enough light to see the back of the mailbox without artificial aid.  It should be a celebration like the solstice or the equinox.  Flashlight day.  I can bring the flashlight inside, place it next to the star charts and wait for the wheel to turn further towards the highlights of summer.  The potential of it leaves me speechless.  It's coming.  Soon.  Soon