When I was a child, my father always lit the house with Christmas lights. He put angels and choir singers made from beautifully painted wood cut-outs on the front lawn and my Mom placed the Christmas tree in the front window. I looked forward to all of this each year...it was so exciting and everything that I could ask for to make the Season magical. Mostly, I loved the lights; the lights on the tree and the lights on the roofline of the house. ( Just as an aside, my first word spoken as a child, was "light")Eventually, I had my own family and we started our own traditions, but somehow, we never had lights. Never. I have dreamed of it many times, and though it may seem like a simple thing to do, I just wanted to come home one day and see the house lit up--poof-- like magic! Yesterday, I returned from New York to our home that hadn't yet been decorated for the holidays. Life has been very busy and this was going to be the week. It was dark and Alain pulled in the driveway to let me out. I went to sleep, exhausted from my busy trip. Today, we were sitting at the breakfast table and he asked me when I had had the time to put a wreath on the front door. I was puzzled...what wreath? I ran to the door and opened it to find the most beautiful wreath that had been hung with a proper hanger ( I always tie my up with any ribbon I can find!). I knew immediately who had done it.... the day continued and as we were heading to the nursery to buy our tree, Alain asked me another question: when did I have time to light the tree in the front yard. I looked at him in amazement...what tree, what lights? I asked him to stop the car and I ran to the front yard and there they were...lights in the tree. I couldn't stop the tears from falling...He came up behind me and hugged me as I cried. It could only be Thierry.
Tonight, when the lights came on with their timer, my heart lit with them.
Christmas came early this year.
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