Dad's Christmas Lights

 My dad loved Christmas.  I grew up in a small town in Northeastern, Pennsylvania.  It was always very cold in December and we were blessed to have a "white Christmas" almost every year.   Once Thanksgiving was over,  my Dad couldn't wait to put up Christmas lights on all the bushes around the house. I think he would start counting the days during the summer, until he could put up his beloved Christmas lights.  Dad loved Christmas.

Dad would go outside in the freezing cold and put a string of lights on one of the bushes and then come in the house and tell mom and me that we had to come outside to see the beautiful lights. We'd go outside and stand there in the freezing cold and tell dad how great it looked, then mom and I would run back into the house.

Five minutes later dad would have another string of lights up and we would have to go back outside and see those lights. This would continue until dad got all the lights on all the bushes. When he was finally finished and mom and I were inside trying to get warm, dad would shake his head and say "aren't those lights just beautiful? Don't they look great? Let's go back outside and see them again," and outside we all would go, shivering and shaking, the snow would be falling down and we would all marvel at the beautiful Christmas lights that dad was so proud off.

Oh what I would give, to watch my dad put up Christmas lights just one more time.