The storm drain on the perimeter of our corner lot wasn’t up to code — its opening was large enough for a small child or animal to fall through — so it was repaired last week. The first crew arrived two weeks ago to lift the cement cover and set it aside on the lawn. I’m sure the grass underneath perished quickly — a neighbor told me theirs turned yellow in mere hours from a forgotten tarp. After two weeks denied of light, our little rectangle of grass is emphatically lifeless.
Grass needs light.
We need light.
We may not require literal sunlight, as plants do, but we do require an intangible thing still aptly called light — a reason to live; hope for a future; certainty that there is goodness on this planet, love on this planet; assurance that some of that love is meant for us — that
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