Christmas LightsA Story by ShannonIn a manner of speakingStanding on the side of a dark highway, no traffic lights - not a single artificial light - visible in any direction. The car beside us sits empty. Wind pulls at our winter wear; jackets, mittens, toques and scarves move erratically, tugged by the unseen force of the occasional gust. But we stand nearly motionless. The time is nearing that tipping point, where this night will become the first minutes of Christmas eve. Going back for Christmas is always an event. Family meets in a cacophonous combination of children, pets, gifts, meals, treats, games and outdoor activities. But this is the first year we are travelling so far - the year we Moved Away… ***** We are new to our jobs and can’t get much time off. Weary from a day of work, we leave when most people are sitting down to supper, to join in the holiday fun the following day. We are not used to this trip; it’s length feels daunting. The night is clear, if a little cold, and traffic thins out quickly. As we move down the highway, time slows down, seconds tick along with kilometres at a frustratingly glacial pace. Staring out the passenger window, watching snow covered landscape go by, I see a glimmer. A few flashes of white light. Indistinct at first, maybe reflections from a vehicle on a rural road or a farm house light. The flashes get longer, in duration and distance. They begin to widen to inconsistent bands of light, streaking across the sky only to disappear into the ether. The Northern Lights. After watching for a few moments, I look back and see my son is awake. “Northern Lights on this side of the car.” “My side, too,” he replies, so I slide open the cover of the sun roof, to give us both a wider view of the wisps of light in the night sky. The shimmering begins to solidify, becoming dancing ribbons of light, as the temperature drops and frost begins to build up on the car windows, obscuring our view. The Aurora Borealis persist in keeping our attention, peeking though still transparent bits of the windows, gaining strength, becoming bright. The ribbons now support streaks that reach up further into the sky. The darkness become lighter. Colours emerge; green first. A color that shouldn’t exist in nature. The color of neon signs in a free form ribbon across the sky. The pillars rising out of the ribbons change from green to magenta, fleeting crystalline structures in the sky, gone in a heart beat. Over and over. Mother nature is providing an incomparable display of Christmas lights, unrivalled by even the most thoughtful or garish offerings created to celebrate the season. The road we are on winds gently through varied terrain. Here, we speed past small fields and smaller hills interspersed with gatherings of trees. Other lights rarely pierce the inky night. “Let’s stop to look at the lights” I tell my husband as the show intensifies, and the frost on the windows increases. “Are you sure?” he asks “its cold and getting late”. “Yes.” I reply, not adding, but thinking: ‘what difference will a few extra minutes make?’ He pulls onto the narrow shoulder of a straight section of the highway, in near uninterrupted darkness, and turns off the car, so the dashboard does not emit competing light. Ensuring winter clothing is in place, we step out into the snow, putting the car between us and the road. “Mom….”my son whispers, his voice trailing off, as he first tips his head upward to take in more of the night sky, then slowly turns his whole body in a circle. His tired eyes widen and he tries to speak again. “Wow…” is all that comes out. Reverence on his face and in the one breathed word. Leaving the confines of the car has revealed the scope of the lights. They surround us, embrace the night and push it back. A multitude of the green ribbons float through the sky, intermingling and separating at will. The green so intense, it feels solid, tangible, until it shimmers away, making room for yet another to follow. The spires that rise out of the ribbons reach so high into the night that, at times, they turn from magenta to deep royal blue before fading into the darkness of space. We stand for hours or minutes, until our fingers feel the chill and our noses begin to run. “Time to get back in the car?” my husband asks, reluctance in his voice. We return to the car, turn the heat on high and resume our travels. The windows are still frosted as the lights fade. “Do you remember when Grandma tried to get all the pink lights off the Christmas tree?” my son asks “Do you think she forgot they look like the northern lights?” The trip lightens, changing from late night drudgery to a laughter filled trip through memories of Christmases past, to join in much anticipated festivities, as the sky darkens completely.© 2016 ShannonAuthor's Note
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Added on December 9, 2016Last Updated on December 9, 2016 AuthorShannonCanadaAboutI like to explore the world through the human experience, at once both varied and singular. Reading, writing and meeting people makes one's world larger. I enjoy connecting with people, learning.. more..Writing
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