I’m writing at True Woman today:

Just before we moved into our new house, the previous owners were kind enough to give us a box of Christmas lights. They even pointed out a diagram, penciled onto a wall in the garage that showed which strand of lights went on which roof peak.

I was ecstatic. Now, at long last, I would count myself among the festive members of the neighborhood!

In our old neighborhood, our spot on the street always resembled a big black hole. Everyone else’s lot was glowing with Christmas radiance, but ours was punctuated with darkness. My husband didn’t see the point of dragging out the ladder in early December and attaching lights to the trees and rooflines. He said, “Why would I risk my neck to raise my electric bill?”

But surely now this dark era of our family history would end. From this point forward, when December rolled around, the Popkin home would twinkle with Christmas cheer, bringing wonderment and joy to all!

How wrong I was.

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