The Reflective Eclectic
Light Beams
When Fiction Tells the Truth
I wasn’t even old enough for school when I sat in the back seat one night, returning home with my folks from Thanksgiving with my grandparents. The highway was illuminated by streetlights. As we drove by, shafts of light appeared to reach down to the car’s windshield and push us to the next lamppost, as bargemen pole a raft down a river. It seemed as though we were passing through a vast system that lovingly guided us and guaranteed our safety from the hazards of the road.
As young as I was, I knew there were no bargemen mounted on the lampposts. The phenomenon was caused by the reflection of light upon the curved glass of the windshield. I had this ordinary explanation at hand, although I was unable to elucidate the physics of it and would still be unable to do so today, but the reality was not that interesting. I preferred my fantasy. It suited me well as I whiled away the time on the long journey.
I tried to share this observation with my parents, but I must have described it poorly, or they lacked the imagination I possessed because they couldn’t see it. It’s not that they passed it off as childish dreams, although they could have. They just didn’t see it. Beams of light had no use to them beyond illuminating the road. It didn’t bother me much that my…
