Lighting the wick, the old kerosene
lamp sprang to life. My young son's
eyes grew wide and his chin dropped.
His puzzled look changed to a question,
"Where do you plug it in?" I smiled, and
told him you didn't need to plug it in.
The puzzled look on his face grew
deeper. "Then, where do the batteries
go?" "Shaking my head I replied,
"No batteries either."
Cleaning out our shed for spring, I
chanced across my dad's old
kerosene lantern. Shaking it, I could
hear it slosh.
Fascinated by the dancing shadows,
my son was disappointed when I blew
it out. He asked if I would light it again.
I thought he had forgotten all about it
when we went to the house for some
lunch. Excitedly, he told his mother,
"Come to the shed and see dad's
magic lamp."
“Magic Lamp” was printed in Harvest Time, No. 5 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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