Like countless others, I find myself instantly attracted to Christmas. I cannot quite pinpoint what exactly it is that is so attractive and enchanting about the Christian holiday, but it is something which has gripped me from a very young age.
Yet, coming home from school today on the bus, we drove past a house near to where I live, a house which, year after year, exceeds itself in terms of lairy, bright decorations. I’ve lived in the same area for ten years now, and the appearance of those lights always signifies to me that Christmas is here. The lights have been up for about a week now, so I have accepted that Christmas is upon us, but driving past these lights tonight I questioned them. I thought to myself, “what is about these bulbs that entrance me so much. They are, essentially, nothing but bright colours.” I have been home for three hours now, and yet still the question flickers in my mind.
That’s when it hit me: just a few seconds ago. I must be getting too old for Christmas. My innocence has been snatched and I know the truth. Ok, so I have known about the lack of good old St Nick for a few years now, but Christmas is just… it’s all quite childish isn’t it? It’s a strange situation.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas. But seeing those lights twinkling, something clicked. They’re only lights after all.
