Day 61: Love and Lead Lights

We didn't have a television when I was a kid. That's not exactly true. We had a television, but it was tucked in my parents closet and only made appearances during the World Series. I didn't mind, except for a few uncomfortable moments in third grade when I heard one girl whisper to another It's true, they don't even have a TV at her house! My parents wanted us to be active and creative and productive and so we were.

We didn't have TV, but we certainly had radio. I remember holding the light for my dad as he worked on the car. He would have the Red Sox game buzzing on AM radio while he read through manuals and tinkered with whatever was going on under the hood. Usually my brothers were with him, but occasionally I would be outside holding the lead light, twisting it this way and that, while the socket cranked and the Sox inevitably lost another season. They were good nights. Unfortunately I never became the loyal Sox fan my father still is. I pretended to love the Yankees, mostly because it mean a good debate with my dad. Because he used to get so crazy defending the Red Sox, like they were his own. And I think, in a way, they were. But I learned something about love on those chilly autumn nights. Nights when I could have hung the lead light on a nail or hooked it to the hood. Nights when my dad couldn't see a thing anyway because I mostly shined the light into my own shadow. I learned that Dads will always work on cars, even if they have no idea what they're doing. That it's important for children to see their Dad working on a car and believe that he can fix it. Because he can fix anything. And I learned to stay. Even when I was cold and my arm was numb and I didn't know if Dad was mumbling at himself, the car or the Red Sox. Because when you love someone- when you're teaching someone what it means to love, you teach them to stay and to hold the light high. And there are times right now, when I want to hang it up and go back inside. When this whole love thing seems like more work than it's worth. But I know that even if my husband will never be a dad, he'll still be a fixer. We'll be fixers together and so I'm staying and I'm holding the light.