(22) Christmas Lights

“Bye Daria.” I mumble a goodbye, hop out of the passenger seat of the wrangler, grab my bag from the back trunk, and slam both doors swiftly. Olivia screeches out of our long winding driveway as quickly as she has entered it. The freezing breath of the outside air surrounds me and as a cold wind blows the leaves around on the cement it sneaks underneath the folds of my jacket and slips between the small stitches in my navy, wool scarf. I shiver uncontrollably.

Slinging the heavy weight of all of the textbooks I have graciously been given this year onto my back, I am extremely thankful that tomorrow is Friday. I stumble to the front door and insert my key into the hole to find it already unlocked. Too numb with the cold and hungry to care I swing it open, drop my bag next to the small antique table with the vase of flowers that is to the right of me, and head for the kitchen at the other end of the hallway. I know I am forbidden to drop my stuff in the doorway like this but I am too tired and cold to care. My parents swear it marks up that priceless piece of furniture. I have never, however, seen one mark on the tall, dark wooden legs

I walk across the kitchen to the refrigerator and notice my mother is sitting at the breakfast table in her tennis skirt, flipping through a Town and Country magazine. “Mom,” I rush down the hall to my jacket and bag, and run them towards the mudroom, “What are you doing home!” I shout from across the hallway and then enter the kitchen again, a little out of breath. If my mother has any inclination of what I have just done, she shows no signs of it.

“My tennis match was canceled today, dear.” She doesn’t look up from her magazine. “It turns out Mrs. Hathaway’s Siamese cat nearly swallowed whole her daughter’s hamster, and she had to rush both of them to the vet. Of course no one bothered to let me and the other ladies know until after we had gotten to the club, so instead I took the opportunity to go buy some new Christmas lights for this year.”

“Oh.” I respond, as I pour a mug of cold milk, add a clump of chocolate powder, and push it into the microwave. “Do you have a PTA meeting today?” I press a couple of buttons, shut the door, and wait for my hot chocolate to heat up.

“No, not today.” She flips another page.

I discover a golden opportunity. “Let’s go put up the lights then! We can put them up before Dad’s business get-together tomorrow night. I don’t have that much homework.” I lie.

“No, no, Daria, I was just planning on paying Martin to do it again for us this year.

“Come on, Mother,” I persist, “Why don’t we do it this year? Did you get the icicle ones?” I am already getting excited as the cold, textbooks, and grumpy sister are all whisked out of my mind..

My mother looks at me. “Yes, Daria and if you think I am going to go out in the freezing cold to put up Christmas lights on our house this afternoon you are completely crazy.” I smile at her slyly and she shakes her head and lets out a large sigh. “Let me go change first then.”

Only fifteen minutes later we are both bundled up in our warmest sweaters and jackets. I look up at the front of our house, a little doubtful of how my mother and I are going to be able to pull this one off. The two pillars will be a piece of cake, but the top of the roof is almost going to be impossible.

“You get the lights ready, Dare, I’ll go get that tall ladder Martin left in our garage.” I sit on the steps and start to open up all of the boxes. A few minutes later she returns with the rusty blue ladder under her arm and leans it against the house. Pulling off her black leather gloves and stuffing them inside the pockets of her navy pea coat, she cranks the ladder so that it extends farther and farther up the height of our home. I have never seen my mother so determined. I think about the previous week’s lunch at Post Corner and the vow we have made together that we will try and have a better relationship.

“Ok, Daria, fill your pockets up with Christmas light hangers and then climb up this while I hold it steady.”

“I’m the one who is going to do this?” I ask and look at my mother with surprise.

“You were the one who was eager to get them up, so you’ll be the one to start the whole project.” My mother laughs. I scowl at her and start making the sides of my jacket bulge with plastic clips.

“Are you sure this ladder is stable?“ I place my foot with great uncertainty on the first rung.

“Start climbing, Dare, I will make sure it doesn’t wobble. Just make sure you keep your weight in the center of the ladder.” She hands me a coil of brand new lights.

I begin to climb. Grasping each rung and pulling myself I get closer and closer to the top of the roof. My mother’s head becomes smaller and smaller and soon I am even with the tops of the trees. It seems like I am higher up than I really am and I have never been one to be afraid of heights but my heart begins to beat quickly.
“Start at the end of the left corner of the house, Daria, and when you have hung as many lights in this area as you can, you can come back down and we’ll move the ladder over a bit.” My mother shouts up at me.

I hold up the strand of icicle lights in front of me and find the end of it. Taking a single clip from my pocket I attempt to attach it to the top of the roof. Pressing it down firmly I wait for it to click on but it doesn’t. I push harder and suddenly it flies out of my gloved hands and sails down towards the ground. “Darn it!” I mutter and then grab another hanger from the same pocket. I peel off the gloves on my hands and drop them down below me as well, realizing that I am going to have to sacrifice warmth for success. I push the clip down on the roof again and this time it clicks into place. Grasping the ladder with my left hand, I reach with my right hand and attach part of the strand of lights onto the clip. I survey my work with satisfaction, making sure to pull down each group of lights so that the icicle shapes they form tonight will look perfect.

It isn’t long until I have finished hanging all the lights I can in this area and I climb gingerly back down the ladder. My hands are numb and blue, my nose is red and running, and I can barely feel my toes in my sneakers but I am more happy and proud than ever.

My mother and I take turns holding and going up and down the ladder. Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into hours. It begins to get darker and darker and we go through package after package of lights. As I hang lights during my turn on the ladder, suddenly a bright spotlight appears on my mother and I. I recognize the almost white xenon lights of my father’s BMW.

“Daria, what on earth are you doing up there?” I hear my father call down below.

“Putting up our Christmas lights, dear.” My mother smiles as my dad gazes up at our progress doubtfully. He shakes his head and chuckles as he walks into the house with his briefcase.

I pull the last strand down until it hangs and then realize that I have finished the whole top. “There! DONE!” I breathe out a sigh of relief that forms a cloud in front of me. I almost fall off the ladder with joy as I wave my arms around with exhilaration.

“Daria, come off that ladder before you do a victory dance!” My mother calls up to me. I laugh and climb back down to stable ground. Together we quickly wind the lights around both pillars and attach the ends to the other strands of lights. Finally we are finished for the night.

“Now wait here while I go plug the extension cord into the outside socket.” My mother says with an uncontrolled burst of excitement. I walk down the driveway into the darkness so I can have a perfect view of our masterpiece. Rubbing my hands together for warmth and hopping up and down on my numbed toes, it seems like forever until suddenly there is a burst of light that illuminates the whole house. I look up in awe at the halo of lights trickling down around the top of our house and the two pillars. Of course we have always had this tradition of having Christmas lights, but there is a feeling of happiness and pride that my mother and I never got when Martin and his men climbed up and did it on just an idle Saturday afternoon. Now every night when our family or our friends pull into our driveway, they will be looking up at the handiwork of my mother and I. The satisfaction of looking upon the rewards of work has never been so refreshing. The night seems almost magical.
After my mother and I gaze together up at the bright lights in front of us, we walk together up the steps and into the house where we warm our frozen hands and toes in front of a blazing fire that my father has prepared for us. I look at my mother tenderly, beginning to appreciate and love her more than ever. The season of loving and giving is already just around the corner.

The logs crackle and burn and as I stare into the rising flames, my body is filled with warmth. Though it is only the first week of December, Christmas seems more close to me than ever and I know that this year it is going to be different.