I’ve been mulling over the idea of going where the light is.
The thing is, that light? Where it is changes for me. As often as my emotions, maybe, these days. What brings me joy one day (one hour, one moment) can be anathema to me the next.
Sometimes my kids are the light and the next minute I want to ship them off to Siberia. Sometimes cooking is the thing that steadies me and the next meal I don’t want to chop another vegetable, fry another egg, or mix together flour, water, salt, and yeast ever again. Sometimes I can’t get away fast enough to type up the words in my head and other times I look at an empty page, certain I won’t have anything to say ever again in my entire life. Sometimes I’m so glad Tyson is here and we’re in this together and other times I want to self-quarantine myself away from him. Sometimes I find hope in the grocery store, in the fact that I’m out— free! —from my house. Other times it’s the most depressing place in the world as I walk around and realize we can’t even see each other’s smiles anymore underneath our masks. Sometimes I find the light in the normal, ordinary routine of our days. Other days I want to scream in frustration at the mundane and instead find joy in wearing a nice top and jewelry, in hosting snack time on the front porch, ordering lunch for myself just because.
You see my problem here. It can make things difficult, this finding of the light. It’s not always where I’ve left it.
Still. As I mull this whole “go where the light is” idea over, Albus Dumbledore keeps popping into my head.
“Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”
I don’t only need to turn it on these days. I need to actively search for it.
It’s there. I (almost) always find it. Even when it’s not where I’ve found it before.
That breakfast light, though.
A real breakfast with a side of comfort reading.
School as an anchor in our day.
Just look how studious they are.
Unscheduled coffee break.
Unscheduled jump-off-the-Nugget-free-for-all break.
Chaos.
A teacher who captivates them with her videos as tulips listen in.
Lunch delivery. Just for me.
Happy sidewalk art.
Buds budding. The bluest of skies.
Friends who also live in your house.
Snacktime in the living room. (Previously absolutely, positively 1000% forbidden. Here we are.)
Friends who live in your house part 2. This time with LEGOs.
Cheers.
Impromptu PJ dance party.
The magic of books.
That evening light, though.
Flowers reaching toward the light, even as it fades away.