We made it. The Winter Solstice is behind us. That brings the hope of returning light.
It gets increasingly hard to coax Benjamin out of bed when the darkness contradicts me.
"Stay in bed. Sleep." It croons to him as his head lay sunken into the pillow. I fob all manner of enticements, like promises, that await him after a shower.
"You are going out to lunch with Jamie!"
"Remember that you get to open a door on your advent calendar!"
But as the sunrise back pedals deeper into the night, waking up will be less arduous.
A friend called in tears last week. Her husband had cut her off in a conversation with friends and she felt slighted. She knew the sting would lessen if she was heard at least by me if not by him. So I listened. Back in our dating days, and no doubt hers, that kind of dismissive behavior would be unthinkable. Our young love was sunny, with no ego to block the light. Yet our need to control each other pulls like gravity, elongating our orbit to the farthest point we can endure.
Some days I can believe that John and I are rounding the bend. The impulse to correct him, or steer him to suit my whim is retreating. A little.
Maybe by the time all of our kids are gone we will again be bathed in the light of full regard.
