Holiday Lights

When I walk across the field from my school to my home in the evening, as I did tonight, I leave behind the fluorescent light of a public building that is sometimes stingy with its love. I enter a brief darkness that is both comforting and scary. First, I enjoy the solitude that this stretch of unilluminated grass brings. It is a peaceful moment that highlights the value of soil underfoot and stars overhead. Then I have a healthy fear of the potential for wildlife. Okay, in suburban DC, how bad can that me? Unless one is as skittish about a raccoon, an opossum, or even as a rat as I am (because rodents of any size, with their beady little eyes, rattle my nerves). Still, this small boost of adrenalin prevents me from lingering in the middle ground where I am neither at work or at home. One step closer, and I see a string of lights draped across our back porch. The back door is open--thank you, 70-degree weather--and our kitchen glows even warmer. Inside is dinner, sleeping child, studying child, and a husband making finishing touches on the dishes. Let the celebration of home begin.