Twinkle Twinkle

A memory came to me yesterday while having a conversation with a friend about Christmas decorations. I’m willing to bet nearly everyone has a similar memory:

Sitting cross legged on the floor and untangling strings of lights from Christmases past.

Maybe your memory includes sugarplum smells drifting in from the kitchen, or strains of holiday music played on vinyl that’s become warped over the years, but you sing along anyway.

Do pine needles prick your legs where they’ve fallen from the tree?

Do you have a bit of sticky sap on your nose from where you leaned in to inhale your first breath of the season?

Are you simultaneously cursing and laughing over the multicolored puzzle in front of you?

Do you remember the clink-clink sound of the bulbs bouncing off one another?

Do you remember thinking how cool Christmas lights look when you plug them in on the floor and they come on?

Why didn’t we just have a ball of tangled lights plugged in on the ground.

Still pretty.

Much easier.

Does your memory include taking a break to find the last piece of pumpkin pie and pour yourself an eggnog to go with it?

I’ll bet your memory doesn’t include worrying about the sugar intake.

In your memory, was there already snow?

Or were you staring across the street at palm trees and giggling because they were covered in lights too?

Whatever your memory is, cherish it. Find peace and hope and light (in tiny, multicolor twinkly form) in it.

3 thoughts on “Twinkle Twinkle

  1. My memory includes sitting on the roof with my brother talking and hanging up the lights, watching his Jeep Wrangler in the driveway and his stereo blaring and the neighbors being slightly annoyed, but nonetheless all of it together sweet memories

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Any time I hear the phrase, “Where is the G–d—ed tape?!,” I’m transported to our first home in Midland. I’m 8 years old. My mom is sorting out ornaments, my dad is attempting to wrap a gift, I’m putting icecicles on our cheap artificial tree, and my younger sister Amy is bouncing her pigtails as she sings along to the Chipmumks Christmas album on the record player. We still believed in Santa, and Christmas was a time for magic.

    Liked by 1 person

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