Slow Death and Loss of The Light

Last night I walked up to my bedroom door and flipped the light switch on the wall just inside.  The lone bulb in the ceiling fan light fixture began this odd action of flickering. Like a severe electrical storm or the beams from a science fiction movie, streaks of light shot through the confines of the glass bulb. For what looked to be long moments but was mere seconds I watched the death of the bulb before it went dark. Placing the entire room once again in darkness.

 My bed is this enormous, queen size monstrosity with a headboard comprised of a  recessed mirror and cabinets on either side. Reaching into the nearest cabinet I removed a package holding spare bulbs. Removing one I screwed it into the fixture and the room was once again bathed in light. The fixture will hold three bulbs, but I only ever use one. The single bulb puts off enough light for my purposes. Returning the one remaining bulb to the cabinet I began preparations for my night’s sleep. 

Considering all the while, the slow death I had witnessed.

That moment of brighter light. That moment of excitement. That moment when I was no longer taking the light for granted, but watching the last moments of its existence. We often hear that from the moment we are born, we are dying. A long, slow, lingering death. Many have heard, and I’ve even said, life is a journey. Many things happen along the way, it is up to us on how we react and handle those events. 

If I were to try and describe how I would like to spend my life, how I would like for my life to be perceived, it would be similar and yet different than a light bulb. I would like others to know that I am there, willing and ready to be a light in their darkness. Ready to listen if needed, to simply be a company if preferred. A presence, that illuminates yet does not over power. I want to live a life of usefulness. One of purpose.

Each of us are as individual as the types of light around us. Lights with a low glow, the type that helps you find your way in the dark without blinding you in the process. Lights that brighten a parking area, or an arena. Many varieties, such as are people. We are all different, we all have our individual purpose. We are all, no matter who we are or what circumstances we find ourselves, meant to shine in some fashion or form.

 My hope, is that the light that I shine, will always have a style that draws attention…in a good way. That it will shine the light of love, compassion, hope. That those who see, will see encouragement and direction toward a better shining of their own light. That every word I speak, every action I take, will be a bright light of positive possibilities. That the light will be noticed every day, not when the time comes, that my light should burn no more.

About rebecca s revels

A writer, a photographer, a cancer survivor. An adventurer of the mild kind, a lover of the simple pleasures such as long walks and chocolate. A Christian unashamed of my faith and a friend who is dependable and will encourage readily. Author of three self published books with more waiting to find their way to paper. An advocate of good things, a fighter against wrongs.
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2 Responses to Slow Death and Loss of The Light

  1. Blanca says:

    I like the way you compared human lives to light bulbs. I never thought of a light bulb in that way, but you managed to create a really interesting figurative connection. Thank you for sharing!

    • Thank you so much. It was really kind of funny when I turned the light on and stood watching as it flickered itself out. Within moments I was thinking, “I know what I can do with that…tomorrow.” I’m so glad that you enjoyed.

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