I get home from practice pickup and put a few groceries away. My Spanish streak is safe for another day, and so I am left to slice.
I climb the stairs and country music greets me from the smart screen left on to keep the pups from peeing on the couch. (Don’t ask me how or why it works…)
My desk is empty in the way I make it when we are leaving the dogs inside (just in case) and so it greets me with its dark grain, void of grade- and plan-book pages for now. It greets me and invites me in in a way that I have missed since this desk became my office and my classroom space, too.
I click the lamp once. White light. Yulkch! Twice. Yellow. Mmmmmm.
There is something about yellow light that draws me in, makes me feel like honey and home and brings me to the keys in a way more mindful and meaningful than I left them.
There is something about yellow light. Like the one on the porch reminding you that someone loves you. Like the one in the dark showing you the way home. Like the warmth of the sun on a bright summer’s day. Mmmmmmmm. I could stay here in this light, casting these shadows across the keys all night.
There is something about yellow light.