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I really do love December. It feels different from the other months, but in the best way. Every night, once the dinner dishes are done and right before I grab that extra Christmas cookie I swore I wasn’t having, the sun goes down and the Christmas tree takes over the family room. Everything feels a little cozier.
And every night, I stop and stare. Something about that soft light—quiet but full—pulls me right back to childhood, to the years when Christmas felt enormous and completely magical. Back when the family room felt like the center of the universe. Back when time moved slower and December lasted longer.
I think that’s why the glow hits me so deeply now. It feels like a reminder. A tiny whisper that these are the moments we’ll wish we could bottle up someday—the ones that slip by quietly while we’re busy doing dishes or checking emails or trying to remember what we walked into the room to get (welcome to the mid 40’s friends, we can no longer remember anything, haha).
Because life doesn’t slow down (ever). Kids grow up. Traditions shift. New memories take the place of old ones. And sometimes the only thing that keeps us grounded in the middle of all that change is a soft, warm, colorful light in a dark room.
The glow from the tree reminds me the season doesn’t need to look perfect to feel perfect. It nudges me to pay attention to the things never make the to-do list—Mad curled up on the couch waiting for our nightly Christmas movie. The way the antique ornaments my mom gave me catch the light, each one holding a tiny piece of the past. The quiet corners of the house that feel warmer in December than any other time of the year.
It’s funny how a handful of bulbs wrapped around a slightly lopsided tree can stir up that kind of emotion. How something so simple can crack you open, but in the gentlest way.
So if you find yourself lingering in a doorway tonight—hands full, mind racing—and suddenly you’re standing still, watching your tree glow like it has something important to tell you…you’re in good company. That’s the magic of it. The glow doesn’t just light the room—it lights something inside us too.
And honestly? That’s the part of Christmas I hope we never, ever outgrow.
