There's this light that follows him. Most of you probably don't see it, but I do. Every time he walks through the outside door, into the kitchen about 6:18 p.m. every evening, there's this light. Usually, before the door opens, I hear, "Hello sweetie." The second the door opens, light. He puts his trusty binder and thermos down on the counter and grabs me. Not a day since I've known him has it been any different.
While his mother lived with us, she beat me to the punch. "It's Leonard," she would say and the light would follow him to her. He did that every single day, too.
Now, the light is all mine, save a few kittens (namely Bonnie) that have secured his love and lap. Bear would be proud.
As a photographer, light is more important than location. Len's light is more important to me than our home and all the stuff that goes with it.
As long as I have the light, I'll know where I'm going.