A new kind of light

It began with a small hole blemishing the chain-link fence surrounding our compound. It appeared one morning, the chains having been pulled apart at the seams with jagged edges remaining. Nobody looked at it too closely, but we were always well aware of sudden changes.

That afternoon, the muffled speakers attached to each building in the commune spoke:

“We would kindly ask that the person responsible for this morning’s vandalism report to the main office for a consultation. Thank you.”

Despite the lack of specificity, everyone knew exactly who they were referring to. Not that we spoke about it.

Nobody did show up to consult, but the next morning, the hole had expanded even more. Now it was big enough for a child’s head to slip through if they wanted. Of course, no child wanted to. Again, the speakers spoke:

“We would kindly ask that the person responsible for this morning’s vandalism report to the main office for a consultation. Thank you.”

Each day the hole got bigger. None of us stopped to examine it or peer through it. We knew better than that. Despite this, I sensed disturbance within our small community. There hadn’t been this much excitement in a long time.

But excitement wasn’t good.

A watch person was posted there day and night. Weeding out the agitator was evidently the objective of those that spoke. Fixing our community took priority over fixing the fence. They didn’t catch anyone, but the hole remained the same size those next few days. A collective disappointment descended. We did not speak of it.

A new kind of light

One day, as I passed the hole on my way to classes, dutifully avoiding looking straight at it, the watch person spoke to me.

“Young sister,” he said, sounding troubled. “The next watch person is late. Can you please stand here while I go find them?”

Despite my misgivings, I agreed. The community was more important than my discomfort, even though I wasn’t sure if I could control myself around the hole. My misgivings turned out to be correct. As soon, as he was gone I was compelled to peer through the hole for the first time. The sight took my breath away, filling me with both excitement and dread.

I had always been aware of the sunrise, certainly, but I hadn’t seen it like this, not so vibrant that it drowned out everything around it. Beneath the hazy cornucopia of reds, yellows, and oranges, there was something else. I didn’t know what exactly, but I wanted to see it up close. I had to see it.

So I placed my hands on opposite ends of the hole and wrenched, pulling as hard as I could. I was a slight girl, and the hole was already the size of my torso. Just a bit more.

The sound of distant outraged voices told me that I didn’t have much time left.

So I stepped through the hole.

I ran towards the sun.