I can't help but think of our old porch light at this time of year. I love to see houses lit with them in these cold November evenings.
It was the beacon of our family of nine living in a Cape Cod house in the middle of the last century. We all arrived home for dinner at the same time. It seems to me now that porch lights symbolized the fragile hopes of our lives during the uncertain and anxious days of the Cold War. Fathers stayed with mothers, grandmas and grandpas lived up the street and children and dogs played in the backyard. The days were shorter then and the world seemed a lot smaller. We just wanted to make sure that everyone was home in time for supper.