Her stockinged feet scurried over the linoleum floor into the kitchen to double check the stovetop knobs were all turned to the off position. She carefully carried the empty glass milk containers out of the kitchen, through the living room, and set them down on the floor beside her feet. As was customary at this time of year, the temperature was dropping at an alarming pace and she braced herself for the cold blast that was sure to hit her when she opened the front door. She took a deep breath, turned the knob and was jolted by a frost that seemed to wrap it’s cold limbs around her and seek to pull her right through the threshold of her warm abode into the frigid unknown of night with it’s dark shadows and nightly sounds. She quickly set the milk bottles outside and closed the door as a cold shiver ran through her. Turning back to the living room, she turned off the television and slid around the room flipping off lights. As she made her way back to the kitchen, she could hear her mom’s movements and knew she would find her standing in front of the kitchen sink washing the few items that always seemed to make their way there long after the “kitchen closed” each evening. Curls bouncing as she picked up her pace, she snuck up behind her mom and hugged her tight. “Want me to finish that?” Leaning back into her daughter’s arms her mom responded, “No need…I’m almost done.”
This exact scene had played out night after night since she was a little girl. This was their usual bedtime routine. Her siblings had already headed to bed after a little coaxing from their mother, but she always lingered for a bit to ensure she helped her mom with the nightly rituals. She effortlessly pulled herself up onto the kitchen counter, recalling how years back climbing that perch took a bit more effort when a chair was required as a bit of a stepping stone. She watched her mom as she finished the dishes, telling her the lights were all turned off and milk glasses were set out. Suddenly, she jumped off the counter, startling her mom as a spoon clattered into the sink. “I forgot to turn the front porch light on! Be right back!”
Every night for as long as she could remember, her dad worked the night shift at the local car manufacturing plant and never arrived back home before 2am. Her mom always made sure to leave the front porch light on for him, and it had become part of the young girl’s routine as well. Full of curiosity she had asked her mom years ago why it was so important to leave the porch light on for her dad, why on occasion, she had left the warmth of her bed and traveled through the house to make sure the glow of the small lamp flooded the porch. Why was it so important?
Her mother replied, “We want your dad to know that while we might not be awake to welcome him home, our last loving thought before ending our day was of him.”
It’s been years since my father passed away, and longer still since I was that little girl who lit that porch light, night after night. And yet, I still find myself leaving a light on, even when my husband and children are at home with me. I find comfort in the ritual and am forever warmed by it’s glow.
Who do you leave a light on for in your life? Is it someone who comes home to you? Is it habit? Is it for someone you know will never arrive? Maybe it’s not even for a person, instead for something in your life you still hope for?
Do you recall a ritual from your childhood that you still carry out today? If so, share it here. I would love to hear about it.
How did I ever lose touch of coming here to find stories that settle in my soul?
I wish you’d write a million books and put them on MP3 s so I could listen to them when I drive! Your writing makes the world go away for me! I loved it the first post you ever posted!
xo
This is a beautiful post and such a beautiful way to remember someone you love dearly.
Thank you. It’s definitely one of those habits I’ll likely never give up.
Gosh, Leah! You did it again–you made my heart weep. I love this story and everything it represents. I’ll get back to you on one of my childhood rituals. For now, I’m just going to find comfort in your lovely words!
Thank you Anka. Hugs and love to you and your sweet family. Email me some recent pics of the little guy! I bet he’s already grown a ton!
I leave the hall light on in the mornings for Husby so he doesn’t trip over when he comes out of the bathroom after getting ready for work (our routines are staggered and stage-managed).
Hopes from childhood? Ha! Not a chance.
I’m finding it so interesting how those who are commenting are leaving a light on for someone they love even if it isn’t necessarily the porch light. My husband and I spent years crossing like two ships in the night due to our opposite schedules. It’s not easy, but those small gestures mean a lot.
AW, this was really sweet. You know, I always make sure the porch light is on for my husband who typically gets home after dark. I never really thought about what that *said* to him, but it is sweet to know someone thinks of you. Not the same but sort of is, I love to put little notes in my kid’s lunchboxes for that same reason. I know school can feel far away sometimes, and it’s so nice to hear from your mom in the middle of the day. 🙂
I’m sure your husband appreciates it and feels loved to arrive each night to that little light you left on for him. A small gesture that says I thought of you. I put little notes in the kids’ lunches too! They love it and often tell me their friends have even started to look forward to my notes. 🙂
A lovely post. Thank you for sharing that bit of your past with us. We always leave the porch light on. Someone may need the light as they make their way home. This reminds me of when my husband would deploy. We would leave a light in the front window every night until he came home.
Thank you for the sacrifices you and your family have made for us. Keep leaving that porch light on…you never know who may need it.
Oh Little Miss Wordy!!! What a lovely story and a lovely way to end your day every evening. I’m sure he still sees that light. And I mean the one that you leave burning in your heart. SO beautiful.
What a sweet thought and possibly the reason it warms my heart every time I turn it on. Thank you.
🙂 You’re welcome Little Miss. I appreciated your story so much.
great post. I find myself leaving it on mainly because people are out late. I work nights and get home in the morning but find the light on most times.
I’m glad to hear someone is leaving a light on for you! 🙂
Loved this post….it brightened an otherwise cold and drear Monday!
I’m happy I was able to shine a little light on you if only for a moment. Your comment just did the same for me. Thank you.
That was so sweet! I leave a porch light on for my husband who often gets home after dark. I also remember my mom letting me be the one to iron my dad’s hankefchiefs on laundry ( Got a scar on my hand to prove it.) Hankerchiefs are a thing of the past but I’ll never forget that.
I loved being a part of my mom’s daily rituals and stood a bit taller when allowed to conduct a task not meant for a child. Now, I avoid the kitchen and take clothes to the dry cleaners. lol However, I’m still leaving the light on…and I hope you will continue to do so as well. Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read and comment.
This was so heart warming. I could feel the love in that kitchen♡
Thank you. I was blessed to experience and witness a lot of love in that old kitchen!