Light of Life

Cindi Gale

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.

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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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