My father lights adult dim spaces — literally and figuratively

June 3, 2016 - table lamp


My husband, Paul, tells me that in any attribute there is one chairman who binds adult a light so a other might mount underneath it. To him, it’s all about a lighting.

When he picks me adult during a sight hire on Friday evenings and we turn a dilemma during Mile Road, I’ll counterpart adult during a home, a second story of a coastal Maine cottage. For all a world, it looks like a UFO has landed on tip of a neighbor’s unit. A blue heat pulsates from a windows and a quarrel of soothing lights, like a alighting strip, snakes adult a staircase. Step inside and there are no murky corners or darkened nooks.


Just when we consider there can't presumably be another lighting project, he finds a space next a finish list or a low area in a kitchen cupboard to brighten. When we open a cupboards, it’s some-more expected that a inundate of yellow light will brief from them than a can of beans.

There are 5 phases to a projects:

1. The Design Phase, when we spend hours during Lowe’s or IKEA and magnitude any light tie and grieve over a tone and wattage of any bulb.

2. The Installation Phase, when it is critical to double (and maybe triple) check that a energy is off during a breaker panel. Once, when Paul was rewiring a lamp, he plugged in a electrical cord and said, “Here, reason this.” When he snipped off a finish with scissors, my whole life flashed in front of my eyes, quickly bright by sparks and a sniff of smoke, before vanishing to black.

3. The F-Bomb Phase, when Paul is indignant during a light fixture.


4. The Honey Phase, when he is indignant during me. If we ask either a white handle is ostensible to be disconnected, he’ll say, “Honey, I’ve attempted that.” It sounds sweet, yet we know that “honey” is only another tenure for bee excrement.

5. And finally, comes a “Aha” Phase, when he couples one white handle with another white handle and we bask in a heat of a accomplishment.

“Did Willy need a small some-more light?” he’ll ask.

It is always about me. So now we suspect you’ve figured out who among us binds adult a light so a other might mount underneath it.

It is this duality in a attribute that creates it shine. He drives, we sit. He cooks, we eat. He quietly changes lanes in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and we weird out. we can’t assistance it. When a gods have given me everything, I’m fearful they’ll get sceptical and take something back.

Sometimes, we consternation if Paul is attempting to make adult for all a years we faltered in a closet. He lights adult a dim spaces so that we will always be means to find my approach home. But  if we asked him, he would never possess adult to it. For someone who loves to reason adult a light, he hates to mount underneath it.

Before we were married, Paul toiled for days stringing adult hundreds of paper lanterns in only a right shade of dim blue from a roof of a marriage tent. The Jun atmosphere smelled of creatively cut grass, and when we stood underneath a tent after a object melted into a horizon, it looked as if a Milky Way had been lassoed and tugged into place, so that it could deposit above a heads.

“That was Willy’s vision,” Paul told a guest — and it was, yet I’d finished no some-more than rip a print from a magazine.

I have hardly a automatic skills to screw in a bulb. But we can fibre a few difference together and fill them with adequate light to illustrate my love. Paul is a male who utterly literally lights adult my life. Without him, my universe would still be dark. In fact, we never would have beheld me.

To my husband, it’s all about a lighting. But for me, it’s all about what he has enabled me to see.

William Dameron is a Boston-based author operative on a memoir. Send comments to

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