Don’t Go Towards The Light

Mom got up around 7:00 on a sunny day at the end of March.  Bill and I were in the office working on our first cup of coffee and forwarding some funny emails we’d gotten overnight.  She stopped in the doorway and made the announcement, “That woman’s spotlight is on again.”

Since we live on a corner, we have a house across from both the front, to the north and the side, to the east.  Our neighbor across the street to the east has a motion-sensitive spotlight above her garage door and Mom complains intermittently about how it shines into her bathroom if she happens to get up in the middle of the night.  The window is opaque and textured and there’s a wooden blind, but I guess she sees the light through the slits of the closed slates.  I think Mom believes that Nancy, who’s a widow in her early 70’s, is some kind of a geriatric party animal and it makes her crazy.  So hearing her lament about the spotlight again was no big surprise.

“Did you see it last night?” Bill asked.  “Maybe a coyote triggered it.”

“No, it was this morning,” she said.

“You mean like 3:00 in the morning?” I asked.

“No, like 5 minutes ago when I got up.  It’s glaring in the bathroom window.  Again!”  And on that final note she headed for the kitchen.

I got up from my chair and wandered into her bathroom to see what light was shining in the window.  I cracked open the blinds and stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds, then plodded back into the office and sat down.

“So, can you see the spotlight?” Bill asked.

“No, not really,” I said.  “It’s too light outside for the spotlight to even trigger.

“Then what did she see?”

“The sun coming up.  Its shining in the window. ”

“The sun?”

“Yup, the sun.”


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