Candles in the window

My parents had these candles when I was little. Every year when we'd start bugging them about putting up Christmas lights, they'd drag them out of some box somewhere and plug them in, setting them in the windows.

I remember - oh, maybe back in grade 7 or 8 - walking home in the gathering dark after play practice, looking at all the different lights in all the different houses. I didn't have music to listen to, and this was at least a decade before phones, and it was too dark to walk and read - so I'd just walk, and think, as the stars winked on overhead.

Not every house had Christmas lights, but many did. My favourite were always white lights - not the bluey white lights, which made my eyes hurt, but warm white, which felt a little more like candles. 

And it always felt like something special, coming up the street and seeing the candles flickering in the windows. The very world felt alight, holding back the dark in ways both literal and metaphorical. 

I spied on it all, walking through the still blue evening, listening to my backpack scritch against my winter jacket, wind purring against my face.

Anyway. I mentioned to my parents last year that I missed the plastic candles from my childhood, and this summer they brought them to me. When my kids started asking when we were going to decorate for Christmas, I heaved a sigh. (I hurt my foot in November, and climbing stairs is extra sore). But I went up into the attic and dragged down two boxes full of decorations. We plugged these candles in and -

Instant Christmas magic.

For a few moments, I felt that giddy wave flash over me - the excitement and freedom of being young, walking home alone in the dark, looking at Christmas lights. 

I hope you feel it too.

Merry Christmas, friends. 

Xo.