Since starting the new commute, I’ve had the opportunity to experience a seasonal delight. Before dawn and after dusk, in the shrinking chill of Standard Time, I get a spectacle like none I’ve ever seen before.
Hundreds of twinkling red and white lights, in the official colors of Father Christmas himself.
It has been hard to get a picture of this from my own point of view, so overwhelmed with the responsibility listed in each red glare. When I looked up this wondrous sight at the library, I couldn’t find the magic that I had seen that morning. Everyone wanted to keep looking at Christmas until lit was all a blur, without crediting each and every box of moving, rushing joy.
Then I found it, the picture that captured my newfound seasonal joy, from a little bird that everyone knew. Tis very week people have come together to let their voices be heard, sometimes in some unexpected ways. They made a lot of people stop and think. Only a few thought of the same things as the protesters. For this tale, it didn’t matter. I had my picture of Christmas Joy.