It’s Only Dark When It Isn’t Light

“It sure is dark out,” Mom commented as she toddled into the Arizona Room this morning at 7:15.

Looking out the window, we could see the gold and orange glow of the sunrise as it crept above the roofs across the street to the east.  “That’s because the sun’s just starting to come up,” I said.  “It’s really pretty.”

“Well it should be light by now,” she replied.

“And why is that?” asked Bill, never glancing up from his Christmas present, a new Kindle Fire.

“Because, wasn’t December 21st the shortest day of the year?” she said.

“Yes,” he muttered.  “And now they start to get longer.”

“My point exactly.  It’s the middle of January so it should be light by now.”

“Mom,” I said with a sigh.  “It doesn’t happen all at once.  It’s just a couple of minutes longer each day.”

“Well, it better hurry up or it’ll be just like it was before,” she huffed, turning to go.

“Before what?” I asked before Bill could stop me.

“Before it was the longest!” she said over her shoulder, heading to the kitchen and her crossword.

I looked at Bill, who’s glassy stare was focused on the empty doorway.  “What the hell are we going to do when the rest of the country goes on daylight savings?” he mumbled.

“Move to Alaska?” I asked.  “It hardly ever gets dark there in the summer.”

“You know,” he said softly, almost trance-like, before returning his attention to the Kindle.  “The Eskimos used to put their old people on ice burgs and let them float away to the gods.”


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