Love letter to my Headlamp

Dear Headlamp,

When I asked for you for Christmas, my mom wasn’t sure what you were. I placed you at the very top of my list after being inspired by the camping-experienced peers that accompanied me on my journey through Mali. I jealously watched as they used you in an unthinkable amount of situations—them needing some light and you so gracefully shedding some for them.

Much to my delight, Christmas morning I unwrapped you from your box and tore open your casing. I observed your LCD light setting, red light setting, sturdy yet soft elastic strap, and forehead cushion with excitement. As I turned off my bedroom light, crawled into bed, opened my book, and turned you on during my long winter break… I longed for the moment I would have a viable excuse to use you.

Little did I know, but you were about to make your practical debut in a whirlwind of necessity.

When my class was told our two week excursion was getting cut short halfway through due to a potential tropical cyclone, we laughed. After having already lived through a tsunami alert, we felt Fiji was an island full of over-eager weather forecasters who were desperate to keep their jobs—I mean, how often can you repeat the phrase “sunny” before they replace you with a parrot? Because our next destination was a small island community, the three other girls on my trip, our three professors, our friend Stuart, and myself headed back to Savusavu, a city on the northern island where we were having our excursion. Although we had previously spent two nights camping out on the beach in this city, we were forced to retreat to the Budget Lodge… and after one blissful night of watching movies in our air conditioned hotel rooms, the plug was figuratively and literally pulled from our fun.

Hurricane or tropical cyclone Tomas was not a joke, he was a real, category 4 weather phenomenon that forced our “guaranteed to be an awesome two weeks hopping around the most beautiful islands of Fiji” down the narrow and cramped rabbit hole of “shit, we are stuck in the middle of a hurricane without electricity, water, entertainment, or much food”. And then, you turned up and turned on. Being the always prepared Girl Scout wannabe, I packed you secretly hoping for an excuse to whip you out with an enthusiastic “TA-DAH!” and not only did I get the chance once… but I got the chance to show you off for 6 straight primitively powerless days. Being locked in doors for that amount of time, without showering and only eating peanut butter with bread, one becomes somewhat delusional, frustrated, pent-up, bored, and at times even certifiably insane. Thanks to you, our prayers were answered and you provided light in the most ingenious ways—you not only helped me read, write and see to walk around, you helped me use the bathroom, find clothes to wear, and visualize the person talking to me. But, I cannot only speak for myself. On behalf of everyone in my group, thank you for shining light on our lyrics so we could conduct band practice, creating a spotlight so we could reenact our favorite scenes from our favorite Disney movies, producing a strobe light for our dance party raves to Christmas carols (most notably our remix to “The Little Drummer Boy”), and most importantly, for allowing us to see what we were eating—no one likes the magically unexpected crunch when you are consuming creamy peanut butter.

Although I started wanting you for a green-with-envy reason, it turns out, you have been the single most useful thing I brought with me to Fiji (well, besides a swimsuit I guess). And for that I am not only deeply thankful but truly indebted to all of the light you have shed in my life thus far and the potential light you will shed in the future… (fingers crossed on the life of your batteries!) You have proven your usefulness but unlike before, I no longer yearn for the next time I get to use you. When the sun shined again after those 6 long days, I was not sad, but instead rejoicing for your current retirement—natural sunlight is necessary, no one can live from only an LCD light forever… which might be a life lesson only the characters in the movie Wall-E and survivors of natural disasters have had the privilege of learning.

Once again, thank you for ALL that you do… Hurricane Tomas couldn’t get the best of us with you by our side!! Until next time my dearest headlamp companion!

Love,
Sarah