Christmas Lights

In a manner of speaking

Standing 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.

Author's Note

All constructive feedback always welcome.

Reviews

[Woody]

blimey! your descriptions are mesmerizing, S. a truly beautiful little thing. did you imagine it all, I wonder? or did it really happen?
perfect in every aspect. love it.

[Shannon]

Thank you Woody. This one is very real. And I am glad you found it beautiful. I was using every bit of description I could to bring it home for visual people.

[Woody]

I truly could see it with my mind's eye. just like I've seen it on TV or in pictures. it's like a canvas in the sky, right.

[Ana Papaya]

Really enjoyed this. When such a rare gift presents itself you need to make time to enjoy it. Such a beautiful sight they are. :)

[Shannon]

Thank you Papaya!

[Ana Papaya]

You're welcome!

[Orizielle]

Living in a tropical country, I have never seen the Aurora, only seen it in pictures. But your description just seemed to bring it alive in my mind. And I feel the association of Aurora with Christmas, was just, brilliant. Great job! Keep writing! Cheers!

[Shannon]

Thank you. I am glad to have brought them alive. I have yet to see a photo or a video that does them justice.

[Lyn Anderson]

The northern lights would melt anyone's heart. They are truly one of the great wonders of the world -- I can think of many things in nature that left me in such awe -- wild wolves in the forest, the ocean, and the northern lights are among the most memorable for me.

[Shannon]

Thank you for the comment. This was like a personal challenge. Trying to describe something that is so indescribable.

[Jacob Clifford]

Such a lovely concept, having the northern lights be "Christmas lights". This story has a very Christmasey feel to it, especially toward the end with the laughter and memories.

I live in the northern U.S., almost as far north as you can without being Canadian, but I've never seen the lights. I'm almost positive it's possible. Maybe I'll have to make more of an effort in the future.

[Shannon]

Thank you Clifford. I was aiming for a Christmas story, that while still sentimental, has a broader appeal.

They are rare and difficult to see in southern Canada, especially east, so you might need to make a trip to the great white north. 😊

On a side note, it's nice to see you around.

[Stan Lee]

Lovely recount and makes me want to see the phenomenon alllllll the more. I am dying with jealousy inside! As always, an interesting, well written and engaging write. Thanks for sharing. :)

[Shannon]

Thank you for reading! You'll have to head north sometime! 😄

[Ted Kniffen]

This has the makings of a good story. As one who has had the pleasure of seeing the Northern Lights on more than one occasion, your description is spot on.
I would suggest tightening the writing a bit to make it crisper. It bogs down a bit in details.
i.e.
Wind pulls at our winter wear; jackets, mittens, toques and scarves move erratically, tugged by the unseen force of the occasional gust.
It was stated that they were in winter wear, so really, the description of what they had on becomes superfluous.
Perhaps
Wind pulls at our winter jackets and scarves move erratically, tugged by the unseen force of the occasional gust.
There is a gem in the making here. Editing is always hard. Good luck, good write.

[Shannon]

Thank you for the read and review. I appreciate your suggestion and point of view. I tend to use a great many words.

[barleygirl]

It's a brilliant idea to speak of the Aurora as being Christmas lights. I love the way you describe the scene with great imagination & clarity. I love that you make a distinction between artificial light & this natural scene that seems somewhat unnatural in it's color palette. Being a country dweller, I love that you make a distinction about how DARK it is at night in the middle of nowhere, such that every light is more pronounced.

2nd paragraph: "Going back for Christmas is always an event" (I found myself wanting to know more about what "going back" means -- where? what's the context of this journey?)

Maybe I'm a wimp from balmy California, but I felt this story understated the experience of how damn cold it would be driving along with the sunroof open, or how vigorously the occupants would be enjoying the heater again, after getting back inside the car. This is barely touched upon, but I'm over here thinking of embellishing this part a little more to show the intensity between cold & getting warm again.

[Shannon]

Thank you barleygirl, for the kind and helpful review. I think we sometimes forget thst others don't have those cold weather experiences to relate to (or you just want to giggle at me, in your 40° 'winter', were we have been going down to - 40 this weekend at night).

Thank you, as always for your support! ☺️

[barleygirl]

The last two mornings, no heater or fire needed . . . it's 60* when I awaken. Gotta love this Hawaiian pineapple express, even if we never get more than a drizzle of rain! *wink! wink!* (((HUGS)))

[Howling_Wolf]

Simply beautiful. Your story makes me want to go on a trip up north ,just to see the Northern Light's. It contained amazing detail, leaves a wonderful picture in your mind, and just fills you with spirit. Well done. S. Mi

[Shannon]

Thank you so much for the kind words. Sometimes it would be worth the trip. Other times the cold...
I am glad the details work. Thank you again.

[GreenShoes]

That certainly was a magical experience! I loved the line, " A color that shouldn’t exist in nature. " You told your story beautifully, and made me feel like I was there. A Christmas to remember, for sure!

[Shannon]

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I happy to have transported you a bit.