When I use my laptop, I usually sit in my kitchen with my laptop by the window. The view isn’t anything grand, just a view of the smooth street darkened by the dimming light of the shortening days. When the sun sets, the baseball fields and basketball court are transformed into locations of mystery, the unfamiliar rendered the dark unknown. Past the basketball court are boats now covered over with white tarps for the winter. Just above the center of these white tarps is a light, what appears to be a street light. This street light does not appear as a street light to me, not when I sit at the kitchen window and type on my laptop. The street light transforms from a singular dot of light into one with light expanding from four points. The juxtaposition of this light above the high, white boat tarps adds an ethereal quality to the scene, with the light becoming like a star above the clouds. As I look at this image, I notice the cars passing under this light, the cars looking like smaller lights in the darkened distance.
For me, this light acts a kind of symbol of hope. That no matter what emotions I am feeling as I write, I can look out at this light and be calm. Or, if I am having a mental block, that I can look at the light for a couple of minutes and return to my laptop and think of something to write. Like I said, this light serves as hope. Because no matter how dark it is outside, the light is always there. That’s the thing about light, isn’t it? It’s always there, reaching out to us. We just have to see it.