Another Kind of Light


If I look deep, into the night, there is another kind of light. I saw it on Christmas eve. Everyone gathered around in our tiny sunroom, opening presents, reading the poems I had written and given as gifts. As I sit here in the morning soft light, I remember. My lovely daughter, her amazing husband, their two children, my grandsons, and my son, Donnie, rolling in with his big, big heart. He parked his van in front of our neighbor's drive. They didn't mind. They hardly ever use it. It made it so much easier for him to lower his ramp.

For my birthday Donnie gave me a tall candle and for Christmas, he gave me a bourbon barrel candle holder that he designed and our friend, Malamin, built. Unique and precious. Dana, Gary and boys gave me homemade chocolate chip cookies and a chenille throw, rust color, to compliment the olive, hand-me-down loveseat and chair. Cozy for keeping warm.

We didn't take a single picture. How did that happen? Gary brought his selfie stick. In a minute, I kept thinking. It was as though I never wanted to leave the moment.