Giving In to the Light(s)

"Can we hang lights this year?"

my daughter asks

as we pass the holiday lights on sale at the Fred Meyer.

It's a question she's asked before

(pretty much every year since she could talk)

and it's always been a

"not this year," from me.

"Yes," I say,

finally giving in,

and I grin as I grab several packs.

I commend her for being persistent,

and perhaps also in the right place

at the right time this year

when there was a great sale on holiday lights.

"You know I love a bargain," I say,

explaining why I am finally willing,

but really

(and I think she knows this)

it's more that being a dad

has slowly changed me into a person

I thought I might never be

(though clearly someone I always wanted to be).

And it's corny to say

but it's the magic of her smile

and the laughter of her brothers

and the wonder of loving them

that has

(over time)

replaced so much of the sadness

and the darkness

and so much of the anger

and a lot of the resentment

I carried for so long

(especially at the holidays).

And so I hang the lights on the gutter

on the front of our house

(sigh).

And now,

the glow that greets me

when I drive up our street

is like Polaris,

guiding me back home

even when the darkness is heavy,

to the safe place we have created together,

and to the person I had always wanted to be.

Someone who tries to let the joy of the holidays in,

someone who lets the light in,

and maybe even

(though not quite yet)

someone who lets that last bit of resentment go.