About the Light Bulb

Tom had a light bulb moment.

When he was struggling for a hint of inspiration as to how he would complete the essay on the works of William Wordsworth, he knew just the guy to visit.

Matt and Tom had been friends ever since they met each other on the first day in the university halls of residence. As they soon discovered the chances of those in the first year finding themselves in the same dorm doing exactly the same course was very low indeed. Both having come from home to this new environment for the first time, it was good to connect with someone in the same boat, especially someone like Matt.

What Tom liked about Matt was how he appeared to be calm when others were ruffled. Matt would slowly nod his head at the conundrum that others were freaking out about. Nod his head slowly and then pause briefly with an index finger on his lips and eyes shut briefly meditating, so it seemed. Then he would open his eyes and in a serene manner offer a suggestion. As he hardly raised his voice, his peers, like Tom, would give him the attention to share the suggestion. The impetuous would dismiss him quickly, but Tom would think through the suggestion, give it a go and find out that it worked out. At least worked out in giving Tom a clearer way through whatever conundrum they were in.

It made sense to Tom, then, at this time when he was about to freak out over the essay that stymied him so much to see his good friend Matt.

As he arrived at the dorm room of his friend, he paused before knocking. It occurred to him that Matt had always been there for him, but when had he been there in return? Matt was always offering the helping hand and right there for Tom when he was struggling whether with the academic work or personal issues. It was even more odd, because Tom knew that a lot of his lifestyle wasn’t really Matt’s preference. Where Tom went out with his other mates on Wednesdays and over the weekend nights out to the Student Union Bar and the other outlets to let loose and enjoy the range of alcoholic options on offer, Matt would at best turn up for a quiet pub and order a pint of something that he would nurse all night. Others would do their silly things after their night of revelling and Matt would just quietly ensure that people got home safely.

Tom was reflecting on all this as he stood at the door about to knock, when Matt opened the door looking to go somewhere,

“Hey Tom, how are you? Did you need me for something?”

“Errr …” Tom was startled at Matt breaking his reflections, “Yeah, yeah. I just need some help with that Wordsworth essay we had.”

“Sure, no problem, come in.”

Tom always felt such a tranquil sense in Matt’s room. It wasn’t the way the room was neat and tidy, there were no scents of any sort. In most ways it resembled a typical nerdy type of room. Yet there was something about Matt that gave the room just a sense that here there was no need for panic and anxiety. Tom always felt that way when he visited.

“How do you do that?” queried Tom

“Do what?”

“How do you appear so … chilled out. It’s like nothing bothers you.”

Matt chuckled, “Ha – if I present that, I need you to know that has not always been the case.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“For real, Tom. I used to worry so much in life. And I wondered how my Dad was able to keep so calm even when there were serious things going on. My sister’s cancer, my Mum dying, the company making him redundant. I just looked at him and wondered how could he keep it altogether? Why didn’t he fall apart and take to drink?”

“Well? What’s the secret? Did he get into meditation or something?”

“What I remember him telling me was about how he was in the dark for so long and confused and he came across a guy called Jon. Who was like light to him. And when he queried further, it was like my Dad had a light bulb moment. It was like my Dad saw in Jon the light that sparked something in him. And you know, when my Dad talked about a friend being a light bulb moment to him, it made it click that my Dad in himself was being a light bulb to me. But the source of the light wasn’t my Dad.”

“Go on.” Tom forgot all about Wordsworth as he got comfortable on the desk chair, while Matt found a place on his bed to sit cross-legged and face his friend.

“The light turned on when my Dad started talking about …”

(Photo by Callum Shaw on Unsplash)

For His Name’s Sake

Shalom

C. L. J. Dryden