I’m always reminded of going to my granny’s house during Christmas time. It’s from her that I get my love of lights.
I get my love of all holidays from her and my parents, cause holidays were a beacon when I was a kid. A time to celebrate and be celebrated as kids.
But my deep, abiding love of lights can be traced to a single moment in time: walking in my granny’s front door one evening to see a small, brown wicker basket of pine cones filled with tiny, twinkling, white lights intertwined amongst the cones. It was beautiful. So luxurious, so creative, so artistic, so magical. I can’t adequately explain it, but it inspired in me a lifelong love of lighting things up.
And there is no better time to light things up than at the holidays. Every holiday has its own special colors and themes and I lit them all up, all year long. Pink, red and white valentines. Pastel Easter colors. Red, white and blue independence, memories and veterans days. And Halloween - oh Halloween. Orange, black, and purple, the wicked joy.
Of course Christmas is the pinnacle of magical lighting. And every Christmas I make sure to take time to remember that moment walking in Granny’s door. She knew how special a basket of lights could be (and all the ingredients were likely from the dollar store- another inspiring story I could tell). It’s important to note though, that it wasn’t at Christmas that this moment took place. It was just an ordinary day - made magical by that basket. At Christmas, Granny had her tree- with its icicles cascading down looking like they were deliciously, icily, melting off the tree. Us kids couldn’t get enough of those icicles.
I think I have been inspired to light up my house over and over again all these years is to hold on to that special moment over and over again. And I have. Every time.
And bonus points for producing a daughter who became a lighting designer. How amazing is that?
