The transition from summer’s sweltering heat to autumn’s refreshing coolness, felt first in the gentle, whispering breezes, was always a cue for Lilly to begin the cheerful humming of her favorite Christmas melodies. For me, however, this humming had become a harbinger of what fast approached: frozen water troughs, snow-filled roads, and me repeatedly falling on my ass as I made my way across the ice toward the mailbox. Staring toward our attic, she hinted at the myriad of fall season decorations to be hung: Fall, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and then the grand finale, Christmas. As she spoke, a wave of exhaustion washed over me, and I quickly withdrew, hoping to escape the inevitable chore of the process. The thought of countless boxes made me want to run and hide.

Despite my persistent sighs, however, the fall decorations were soon put in place, and her focus quickly narrowed on what lay ahead: Halloween, a slew of birthdays, Thanksgiving, and, most importantly, the magnificent day that followed it.

As the holiday season approached, my ears heard not the sounds of Christmas cheer but the sounds of salt trucks and snow plows angrily grumbling down our roadway. On the other hand, Lilly fully embraced the holiday spirit, enveloping herself in its warmth and joy as one would snuggle into a cozy, down-filled comforter in front of a fireplace on a cold, snowy day. The joyful sounds of sleigh bells and Christmas cheer filled her ears as she happily decorated our home while listening to the classic holiday tunes of Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby.

Thankfully, the first three events were easy to endure, demanding only a small amount of my time and effort. But the last, Christmas, requires so much more. It’s not enough to see the signs of Christmas; a person must feel the spirit within their heart, and I must confess that I haven’t felt the Christmas spirit for years. Lilly, however, was glowing. Thanksgiving was finally over, and her favorite day was at hand.

To her, the day after Thanksgiving provided a portal to better times, a once-locked door she could now finally open. In her mind, ‘black’ Friday represented a much-needed escape from the mundane expectations of shopping malls and bargain hunting. It also heralded in the arrival of her most cherished season, a day when she fervently unleashed her inner Christmas spirit, spreading joy to all those lucky enough to be in her company.

By sunset on this magical day, our home, which had radiated a Thanksgiving theme at dawn, now bore her vision of a Christmas wonderland. She insisted on completing this eye-pleasing transformation alone, allowing our children and grandchildren to revel in its splendor, unburdened by the usual trials of holiday preparations.

From my workshop window, I’d spent the afternoon joyfully watching this delightful madness unfold until the fading light and her empty glass of wine signaled an end to the day. Exhausted but happy, she waved me over, her smile bright against the twinkling Christmas lights, their warm glow reflecting in her eyes. Sensing my spiritual struggle, she pulled me close, her comforting presence washing over me and filling me with the warmth and joy of Christmas; through her kind and compassionate eyes, I finally saw the season’s true meaning.

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