The light is what I see in everything. It's memory. It's nostalgia. 

The light first showed itself to me four years ago. It was in the summer, and I lay flat in my friend's pool, feeling the sun. 

Then, the light started to become many different things.

The light was when I was dropped in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people in the middle of the ocean. 

The light was when I cried every night to go back to the "States".

 The light is in the creek in Lion's Club park. 

The light was the evening clouds dripping sun after rain on the night we beat our high school rivals. 

The light was in the stars on that July night. 

The light was in the rain on that September afternoon. 

The light was when I was just so angry I couldn't see right. 

The light was on the floor on that late November night. 

The light is the bath. 

The light is that deep, raw loneliness I felt in 2020. 

The light is washing it clean. 

The light is my skin. 

The light was my first experience with a boy. 

The light was hiding in the bathroom as a kid, you know what I mean? 

The light is in all my friends who don't sit with me now. You know who you are. 

The light is in Cheryl's chair.

God, I miss her so much.

The light is, was, and will be. 

The light is a witness. 

Have you seen it?