That night, the light coming through the window was orange, a warm rectangle framed by the deep blue darkness of my bedroom. It was neither the yellow glow of moonlight nor the fleeting illumination of headlights. It could have been dawn except that it had only grown dark a few hours earlier and nights last longer than that.
It was the color of spaceship light, and I immediately thought of home.
The translucent drapes across my window diffused the light from the street lamp, and so it left no silhouettes of unidentified flying objects upon the floor or my bedspread.