The Keeper of Light
The Keeper of Light
It was Sunday morning, and Bob stirred early, just as the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. He strolled casually into his workshop. The space was dark and quiet, as though to say, Bob, this is too early.
Bob walked to his workbench and gently tugged on the chain, turning on the light above. After a brief flicker, the bulb glowed with its familiar, warm brightness. When Bob first bought it, this type of bulb was a luxury. Now, it was considered a designer item. For more than thirty years, it had hung above his workbench, lighting his every move.
But this morning, something felt different.
Its warm glow seemed almost alive as it sprang to life, as though it wanted to tell him stories. Bob reached up and felt the heat from the glass, letting the warmth prepare his hands for work, just as he had done many times before. Oddly, it seemed warmer than ever.
In his mind, scenes from his life began to unfold. He remembered using his old block plane and hand drill to make tables, chairs, and gifts for others. He thought of the background music from the old radio station that had kept him company during those hours. He remembered teaching his children how to use his tools and the time he got hurt, a careless mistake, when the light seemed to stay steady, as if reassuring him that everything would be okay.
The light grew brighter, almost nudging him to think deeper. Long-buried memories surfaced. He recalled his father’s hands guiding his own as he learned to use the same tools. His dad had worked with wood too. Maybe one day his children would pick up the craft, not with the finest power tools but with the same simple ones that connected a person to the wood, their spirit, and their history.
The light flickered twice, almost like a wink, before settling back to its usual glow. Bob smiled, recognizing how lucky he was to have these memories. They were his, even if they sometimes felt fragile and fleeting, like that old Edison bulb.
He decided to go outside and watch the sunrise. As he turned off the light and stepped toward the door, something caught his eye, the bulb was still faintly glowing, as if reminding him to keep remembering.
As time passes, the days feel longer, especially when there’s little to do. Tasks like those in the workshop keep our minds busy. Sometimes, that extra time is a chance to reflect, and sometimes it’s an opportunity to create new memories. Bob felt fortunate to carry the past with him and still look forward to what was yet to come. He knew the old bulb would be there, ready to wink again when he needed a reminder to take a moment, look back, and then take another moment to look forward.