Christmas twinkle lights set a mood. They hypnotize in the way that a glowing fire or rolling waves can. There is something that draws us in. Something that mesmerizes. Something that keeps us looking though the view doesn’t really change.
When I was younger, I strung them along my ceiling and I’d write furiously in my journal by the dim light, recalling the events of the day, the boy of the hour, the challenges of my young life. It was relaxing and nostalgic. It was like writing by candlelight without the smoke, the smell, the fear of soot and melted wax leeching onto my prized possessions. It made me feel cozy and warm and safe, my own little space dark to the rest of the world but illuminated enough only for me.
And there’s a romance to them, too. A romance of transforming an everyday space into something slightly more magical, slightly more exotic. In the dimness, rooms can change; furniture looks different, shadows hide the mess, the imperfections. Instead of the same old room in the same old house, I can imagine I’m in a cottage in the woods up north, not a soul for miles.
There’s a literal romance to them, too, when all the lights are off except for a string of glowing twinkle lights. Snug in the arms of my lover, wrapped in a warm blanket, snow lightly collecting on the window pane, it’s easy to forget that there is a world outside of that one moment, and we are both happy to stay as we are all night long.
I don’t know why, but it seems twinkle lights promote love, not only with lovers, but with our families. They create a mood that erases the past and the future; they freeze time so we can live in the present, happy where we are, happy who we’re with, as long as there are twinkle lights.
Do you love twinkle lights? What is it you love about them? What is your favorite aspect of the holiday season? Get out your timer and write