I recently hired Henry, a wonderful guy from my neighborhood, to help me with some pruning, and he asked if I would like him to hang holiday lights on the house. I felt emotional when he asked the question, which told me it was something I should do as a gift to my childhood self. I knew it was the right decision as I approached my house this afternoon on my way home from school and felt my eyes well up with tears again. I realize this is the first time I’ve had holiday lights on my own house as an adult, a little thing that has me remembering my dad’s yearly Christmas light hanging ritual with such fondness and wondering why it took this long to realize it matters to me. Next up: I think I might just dig out Ma’s old cookie press and take a crack at making her holiday Spritz. Missing my people something fierce, but in the best kind of way.
