Leave the sinklight on for me

I was washing dishes after supper the other night and realized something.

My mother often finished cleaning the kitchen, after our evening meal, by the light above the sink. She would wipe off the counters and leave that light on for a while after her nightly chores were done, and before she went to bed, she would turn if off. While that light was on, everything was winding down. My brother and I got our baths, the table was cleaned off, Daddy was home watching tv (or snoring in the bed!).

The wet countertops shining by the light of that dim sinklight meant that things were as they should be.

So, what I realized is this: that the little 60watt bulb above the sink means alot to me. It says, "Someone is home that cares about cleaning the kitchen, getting things readied for the morrow". It reminds me of my sweet, safe childhood.  (I know how unusual and blessed that is)  That sinklight means to me what the front porch light means to other people - someone is thinking of me, and has prepared for my needs. It has become another representative of love to me.

I love that sinklight. And I love my mama - the sinklight user of my childhood.

Now that I'm the mama, I don't use our sinklight much, but I might try to a little more.

When my children are older, I hope they can remember little "sinklights" from their childhood - mundane, everyday things that have become important to them simply because it reminds them of how loved they are.

Gamers

During the Christmas holidays, my bro and his wife came to visit, and we all went to the "Putt-Putt Golf and Games" down the road.

I have always loved golfing at these establishments. One year, when I was in 8th or 9th? grade, our parents even gave us a season pass to our local "golf and games" venue. It was so sweet! They had 3 water slides, along with the bumper cars, go carts, and golfing...this was summer goodness. :)

Anywho, back to the original story...

After we played our golf game, we went inside to see what video game offerings there were. I had already cashed in some free coupons for the kiddys, so they had tokens to spare. What we found was what I remember from my youth - a poorly-lit, windowless room, a cacophony of loud video game noises, smells of questionable origin, dingy looking floors (or is that the awful color of the carpet?), with the same group of people who frequent arcades.

Who are these people, and why are they always at the arcade?

My guess is that this is, perhaps, the only time these people feel "rich". You see, anyone who spends enough time playing these money-swallowing machines, learning the rules of the room - which machine gives out the most tickets for the least amount of tokens - can proudly priss over to the counter with a swagger in thier step, plop down that heap of tickets as the envy of all the other gamers, and "buy" a bag-full of goodies. Sure, they could've taken that same 20 bucks to the dollar store and bought the same bag-full of crap, but it wouldn't have come with the 3 hours of entertainment, the opportunity to "be the best", nor the temporary bragging rights that this affords.

It's sad, really. It makes me feel depressed. And so, except for Chuck E. Cheese ( a well-lit, clean, cheerful place), I hope I never have to see the inside of another arcade again.

That is, unless it is the only place I can play some sweet Galaga.