I remember the day the lightbulb burnt out. I remember it like it was yesterday. It’s crazy to think that something I take for granted so regularly can just go away and disappear. Some things are funny like that.
In my bedroom, there are four lightbulbs, each living in their own light sockets in the four corners of the room. They have enough space between them that they seem independent, but really, all four are controlled by the same light switch by the door. When one flips on the light switch, all four lightbulbs spring to life in perfect unison! It reminds me of synchronized swimmers, or a marching band, or maybe even a row of army soldiers. But these lightbulbs are closer to home—literally, because they are inside of my home.
Whenever I come home from a long day at school, and sometimes an even longer day after participating in various rigorous extra-curricular activities such as debate, charity, the variety show, and the student council, I can always count on my lightbulbs to be there, keeping my room bright, and my spirits brighter. These lightbulbs fill my soul, and they remind me of how lucky I am to have a roof over my head—literally, because the lightbulbs are in the ceiling.
A long time ago, once upon a time and many years ago, people didn’t have lightbulbs; instead, they had to make due with an assortment of candles, placed strategically throughout their houses, or as they called them then, cottages. But today, we are privileged to have these lightbulbs in such great amounts.
After I lost my dog, Chester Sam, I didn’t think there was anything left in the world which could make me smile. But that’s when I realized that we have to appreciate the little things in the world around us, because it’s the little things which really make everything special. Chester Sam always loved it when I turned the lights on in the morning. He would bark his bark that only Chester Sam could muster, and he would jump on my bed and dig his teeth right into the duvet cover. He was a special dog, and I was his special friend. I will miss him forever and ever, and no other dog could ever replace him.
But back to my original topic: the day the lightbulb burnt out. I think it’s a metaphor for something bigger, something really important, and something definitely special. When the lightbulb burns out, it’s a metaphor for an end. But we must remember that every day, the day ends, and after the day ends, another one starts going after we wake up from sleeping. The lightbulb burning out represents an end, but once you put in a new lightbulb, that represents a new beginning. The lightbulb is like a life, or like a special moment with family. Even when a special moment ends, another special moment can start right afterwards. That’s what makes being a human being so special. We can remember the old moments, and participate in the new moments too.