Who Will Leave The Light On For Me?

Who Will Leave The Light On For Me?
By Cosgrove Norstadt

When I was a child I was afraid of the dark. I was convinced that there were scary beasts living in my closet or under my bed. Nightfall brought about the fear of being alone in the dark trying to fall asleep, but all the while knowing that if I closed my eyes, monsters would engulf me. As my mother stepped into my room to tuck me in for the night, I would ask her "Will you leave the light on for me?"

When I was a bit older I was allowed to stay outside after dark. My summer vacation was spent traipsing around the neighborhood on my banana seat bicycle with my friends. We would ride down along the cornfields and frighten ourselves with the possum and raccoons whose eyes would glow in the dark. One particular night I came home more frightened than usual and asked my mother "Will you leave the back porch light on for me?"

When I left home and had my first apartment on the far west side of New York City, I would leave work and find myself walking the deserted streets late at night. The streets were dark and deserted and my eyes darted to and from as I scoped out my walk for derelicts and muggers who might be lying in wait for me. As I approached my building, I would look up at my dark window and say to myself "Will you leave the light on next time?"

Some time later when my friend Mickey and I were roommates, I would go out, crawling from bar to bar and sex club to sex club until I was exhausted from the drinking and random sexual acts that either fulfilled me or bored me. I would come home in the early morning hours and see that a light had been left on and I would think to myself "How nice. Mickey left a light on for me."

Years later, after I had met Jeff, we would have many nights out alone. We mistakenly believed that our open relationship would make us stronger and more independent. We would coordinate our nights out so that we wouldn't run into one another at the same bar or sex club. Whenever we would walk out the door together, Jeff would say "Let me leave the light on for you, okay?"

When J2 moved in with us, he organized our home. J2 likes having a cozy and comfortable place that we can lounge, loaf and relax. He keeps blankets and throws on the sofa to stay warm. He keeps snacks around to satiate our cravings while we watch television, and should we go out at night, he always leaves a light on to show the way home.

Even the Motel Six ads offer a comfortable place to lay ones head, allowing the weary traveler to rest. Cheap lodging with the tag line: “We'll leave the light on for you.”

For many of us, an HIV diagnosis can be a dark and lonely time. Hearing the words "HIV positive" can kick you in the stomach and leave a dark cloud hanging over ones head. What light could anyone find in the dark days of being newly diagnosed? Still, after all is said and done, there is a light at the end of the tunnel and we come through the darkness stronger and more eager to survive…. The light has shown through and shown us the way.

Now at 45, I think about the health issues I face that have nothing to do with HIV. My partner had a heart attack. J2 has Multiple Sclerosis. I find myself looking to the future and wondering who will go first. Who will fall first? And I wonder what it will be like to lie dying in my bed. What if I am the last to go, and as the Wicked Witch of the West suggested, I watch the other two go before me. What if that happens to me and I end up alone?

Who will leave the light on for me?