As I woke up this morning, I could feel that something was missing. Turning to my side, I could see that nothing had changed. The other half of my bed remained undisturbed.

The sheets, remained undisturbed.

I hated those sheets. Those sheets filled me with anger. They filled me with anger because they had no memory of my lover’s past. Sheets who kept her warm and blanketed my loved one for so many years like how a mother surrounds her newborn now suddenly lay flat as if she never was. Did these sheets whom my loved one took care of and washed and embraced it’s comforting satin have no thought to keep my loved one’s shape for when she returned?

The sheets did this to spite me.

Unlike myself, the sheets had no faith of her return. I was certain of it, the sheets were doubtful.

Were the sheets right though? Did they know something I did not?

Those sheets, who covered her, who protected her, who sheltered her dreams for so long. Did they keep so close to her skin that they shared in her thoughts, her joy, pain, and her darkest nightmares? How could the sheets know of her return? How could they know my loved one more than me? I have been under those sheets just as long as she has. Shouldn’t I be entitled to the same knowledge?! All I could do was turn away… Half dazed in a drone like numbness, I lifted myself out of bed and slowly walked to the corner of my simple white-walled room, switched on my small lamp, and then immediately began to be captured by its dim glow.

This small lamp, with enough energy flowing through it to kill a person, is barely lighting up the room. It sat there, in the corner, sharing it’s glimmering light with anything that can grasp it. It struggled. It fought to discharge any radiance at all. “Is it the size of the room…”, I wondered, “…that made this lamp appear so dim? Or is the lamp facing the wrong way, shining it’s brightness on an empty corner?”

My eyes became fixed, more and more, deeper and deeper, till there was no lamp anymore. It was just me staring back at me. A reflection of myself clearer than the most polished mirror or a wave absent lake.

“Why do I feel this way?”

My mind began to churn with seeding questions and thoughts,“A lamp is just a lamp, and I am just me. Am I connected to this lamp in some way? A lamp has no feelings, it has no heart, it shows no compassion! A lamp is just a lamp! A lamp DOESN’T show emotion! I am standing right here and the lamp is resting in the corner! That’s all!!” I even remember buying the lamp. I didn’t hesitate. I was just buying any household appliance, as easy as I would buy a gallon of milk. I didn’t feel anything special about it. It was there to light up the room and take up some space. That’s all. I plugged in the lamp years ago when I first began to furnish my recently moved into room. Immediately I could remember that the lamp was brighter when I first bought it.

“Why is this lamp doing this to me?” “Why is this lamp so dim?”

“I know the power company didn’t just decide to lower the electricity going into my lamp for the hell of it. It has been the same lamp since I bought it. Why should it change? Why should it now decide to be so dim!?”

I started to understand the connection. My light was dimming too. As in this once great illuminating energy flowed through me and shined everything and everyone around me has now evaporated into what I see now, a dried up version of myself. As I looked at the bulb, it wasn't hard to notice how old and dusty it become. I never really bothered to change the bulb. Why? When the lamp always shined so bright. The bulb was dimming right in front of me, as if it wanted me to witness it die. Wishing me to see it as it abandoned it’s purpose. I realized that I neglected the lamp. I neglected the light it provided for my loved. I faced the light away from me , bringing about a shaded darkness like how a fireplace flickers shadows about a dark home.

“I failed to clean the dust off of it to maintain it’s shine. I failed to keep this lamp new and keep it ready to provide it’s best glow for the room,” admitting my shortcomings. “Am I too late? Has it gone too long without care? I mean, would changing it’s bulb or replacing its cord or cleaning it ever make it shine bright again?” “Am I the same? Did I neglect myself and my loved one too much and far too long that I couldn’t shine again?”

My loved one, in the beginning of our love story, saw my light, and basked in it. She appreciated it, she loved it and she loved me. She knew that anytime there was darkness in her world all she had to do was come to me, and I would light her way. But I let my light dim. I failed to improve and enhance myself spiritually, consciously, socially, and physically.

People were attracted to me because of my light but now they are pushed away from me because of my darkness. I thought my darkness kept me away from bad influences. In my mind, my refusal to conform to ideas such as marriage, children, careers would keep me original, true, and bright. But, it just kept me apart from my loved one. My light started to shine away from her. My light shined on anger, mistrust, and procrastination. My light was no longer light, but darkness. It was as if she trusted this light to always be there, to always lighten her path, to make her warm. This light she became to rely on, now she began to resent, to fear. I failed to realize even though my light came from within, most of it truly came from the people I shined on. The people I cared for most gave me a reason to shine, what I gave to them, they gave back to me. What other reason would a lamp be a lamp? If there is no one to shine on and nothing to illuminate, then why exist at all? Why have lamps? Why should I exist? People use light to find their way, to get to a destination, to guide them safely. If all I provided was darkness then what good was I to her? When a lamp becomes of no use, it is tossed, forgotten about, and replaced. If that’s so, if I can’t shine on my loved one, then I will probably be replaced by someone who can. Someone, who has no fear of letting his light shine bright. She will find a new path, a new light. One she can trust will always be there. I have hope that I can shine bright again, for myself, for my loved one. I hope that it’s not too late for me, not too late for my light to shine bright. I ask myself if it’s fair to compare myself to this old lamp. Probably not. But as I look across to the other side of the bed, its pillow… cold, dark and once spoken for. The sheets flat, with no memory. I recall, when that lamp shined bright and when my light shined brighter. I remember when she rested on that pillow. I remember, when my light shined across her face…

-written by Eduardo Flores