Prompt was:

talk about the quality of light, the light where you are.

  • I’ve got two skylights in this room, and in the morning, I watch light move down the wall, into the room, fringed by whatever woodwork is up there on the outside. The windows are dirty, and the light drags their dirty shadows down into my kitchen. And I don’t mind. I never notice their dirt, except right this minute, so its not an actual bother. To clean them, I’d have to go climb on the roof, which might be fun but is certainly not anywhere on my list. At all.
  • The way in which my screen is set up into bullets is thrilling. Makes it so easy for me to transfer, share the way the light is coming through my windows. Looking out I can see the light moving into my neighbor’s yard, illuminating their hedge, lighting up their porch, or what was a porch at one point. Amazing how we don’t go into our neighbor’s houses anymore. As a kid, I swear I was in other people’s houses more than my own. At least, at a certain age. If you asked me to, I could take you right through Mrs. King’s house. Or Mrs. Almeida’s.
  • The light here is on, it always reaches that time of day when I realize the kitchen light is still on, a remnant from putting the kids on the bus in the dark. Not needed, not needed, save the money.
  • We are in the apple crisp season, the crunch of leaves, the cold ‘mom, leave me alone I don’t need a sweater’ season. It is a deep love and a melancholy ache. A melancholy age, my typo just said, before i fixed it. Maybe that’s it too, I’m in a melancholy age. Not old, and not young, the in-between.
  • I’m fine. I’ve been finer, but light, light, back to the light. And its an action, a direction to go. The shadows being slowly moved, as the light does its thing. Its funny, right? How the light directs it? Moves the darkness around by its presence. Actually showing that the darkness is not a force in and of itself. At least at this time of day, the light wins.
  • The light the light the lights, I am besieged by desires to buy Christmas décor. Beads, lights, candles, sparkles of all the kinds. I justify the spending usually but not this year and I’m trying to judge if its better to say lots of little no’s to my impulses and then break down later, or to say a little yes and move on from there. Maybe the yes will flavor the month, relax my compulsions a little.
  • Today I thought I lost seven thousand words that I’ve written. I yelled and raged and didn’t know who to tell besides my boss. It devastated me. And truly, and well.
    and then i found it, and i’m choosing to carry on, to run off to freeze my ass off at a darkening-early farm stand and just carry the joy i’ve been given, even if i want to kick it in the nuts, repeatedly, for scaring me and making me ragecry. i’m still happy it showed up. so there is a kind of light in that, right?
  • And also, while i was ragecrying and trying to save myself by calming myself and putting on more sweaters, i realized that what i do is actually hard, and creating something from nothing is a goddamned miracle. so i chilled, and calmed. and then i found it. so there is always light, and shadow-shoving. so there, man. so there.

Day two. I want to punch something still.


woman in black tank top and black shorts carrying black leather handbag
Photo by cottonbro on

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