Christmas Lights

“Father, why don’t we put up lights on the outside of our house?” James always came straight to the point whenever he had a question.

“We used to. Before you were born, Mom and I decorated the outside of our old home and made it look like a fairytale castle. By the first week in December, we had all the lights up and were oh so proud. But it didn’t last.”

“Why not? Did the lights break?”

“Nope. Mom and I had just gone to bed when the dogs started barking. I got up to see what was happening, and our lights were gone. Someone had stolen our decorations.”

“What? Why? How?”

I shrugged. “We’ll never know. It made us really mad, though. I mean, Christmas is a time of generosity, sharing and peace, and all we wanted to do was to share our joy of the season. When I told Mom, she called the police and said someone had stolen her Christmas spirit.”

“That’s funny.”

“The police dispatcher thought the same thing, but Mom was serious, and so was I. Since then, we’ve never put up Christmas decorations outside.”

“Oh.” James sighed. “I wish … ”

He didn’t finish his thought, so I spoke. “Tell you what. Let’s decorate your window from the inside. Ian’s, too.”

A few days later, the whole family stood across the street and admired the new trimmings. A string of colored lights around each window, an illuminated snowman, complete with a top hat, shone from James’ bedroom and some lighted snowflakes in Ian’s. The family tree stood below their rooms, clearly visible through the living room glass.

“What do you think, guys?”

“This looks good, Father.” James squinted and crossed his arms. “Nobody will be able to steal them.”

The lights gleamed in Ian’s eyes. “Cool.”

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.