ImageCredit...Brian Rea Letting the Light In I was 16 years old and gay. Alone. Except for depression, my constant companion, joining me in bed, waiting for the day’s end.
The light was on. I raised my fist to shield my eyes, but light slipped through and found me. So I surrendered and played along.
My hand contracting and releasing, light dispersing through my fist like a kaleidoscope. A decade later, I met Lucy. My soon-to-be girlfriend’s sole tattoo was of a fist inside a lightbulb.
I like to think it was her light that had slipped through time to comfort me on my longest day. — Lena Munzer Explaining Love My toddler insists that I climb into his crib each night.