The Flickering Light

By Jonah O

I have been driving in the blackness of night for over two hours. The road is devoid of any light; the moon was not out, nor were the stars. Only the lights that comforted me are attached to the front of my car. They guide my way in the emptiness of this night. The inside of the car is warm, a harsh contrast to the outside which is bitterly cold. All over the dashboard are little LEDs that pierce through the darkness, not unlike stars. No music is playing, I want silence for this drive. Only the hums of the engine, the sounds of the road, and my thoughts ring through my ears. My thoughts are the loudest. In the inky blackness of this night, my brain filled with memories of regret and embarrassment. I feel the weight of the memories as if I were experiencing them for the first time. The weight is heavy. Burdening. Why does my brain do this to me? Why is it so easy for my brain to fall into these pits of embarrassment?

A light cut through the darkness from a great distance. My burdening thoughts vanished as my gaze met the light in the distance. It stood alone. It flickered twice every few moments and then held. It was consistent. Consistently flickering. There was nothing special about this light yet my gaze could not escape it. Am I comforted by it? Enthralled? My car drove ever onward toward the light.

I stand underneath the light, my car pulled over on the side of the road. The arm of the lamppost stretches out so the light hovers above the center of the road. The post is decrepit, and rusted. A scent permeates from the post from a time long past, a decaying scent. Metallic. The light it holds onto is reflective of itself. It has been here for decades. No one to keep it maintained. All alone in the empty blackness. Much like myself.

I am its only companion as it is my only companion on this night. I feel less alone in the presence of this light. As I get back into my car, I know that the light is nearing the end of its life. I don’t know how long it will remain illuminating the road but has done its best.

“That light is a lot like me,” I think to myself. “Not in the sense that my life is nearing its end… At least I hope not… Instead, given its situation, it has done its best.”

“Cliché and tacky but sometimes that’s what you need to hear,” I say aloud. “Thank you, flickering light.”

I drive off back into the same night that I was in before. Only, I am not burdened by the thoughts of my past. My head is clear. The night feels brighter. The night has not changed, I changed. For the better.