sparkle

One of my favourite things about the Christmas season has always been the lights. I remember when I was growing up, we used to drive down to Thanksgiving at Grams each year, and on the way home, my brothers and sisters and I would count how many houses we could see all lit up for Christmas. We never had Christmas at our house, you see, so those lights were like the mark of some secret society, all glittery and pretty against the snow.

I'll admit, I think the snow is a big part of the magic. The Husband and I took a detour on the way home the other night, just to drive past a house we had heard about - all lit up for Christmas. For Australian standards, it was pretty fantastic. You just don't see houses decked out Griswold-style here the way you see them 'back home.' Maybe it's because a strand of lights is $40+ here, but it could also be because there is no snow. The lights just don't feel the same without the snow.

The Husband and I didn't put up a tree this year, and I am missing the sparkle of the lights. I remember putting up the tree in years past and then turning off all the house lights and sitting in the dark, just watching the tree twinkle. (Of course, that is usually about the time the tree would crash to the floor. No kidding. It happened three years running. True story.) Still, I would love to come home to the sparkle and twinkle of those lights. It never seemed like Christmas until they were up.

Last night, after one too many Christmas centric episodes of my favourite TV shows (how many of you would have loved to kick Dwight Schrute in the face?!) I was feeling a little blue. It just doesn't feel like Christmas without the lights! So I dug out a single strand of white Christmas lights, plugged them in, and draped them over the book case. Turned out the lamp, and just looked at them twinkle. Perfect. All is right with the world.