This post marks the one-year anniversary for this website. Instead of writing a new story, I thought it would be interesting to reflect back on the last year of Saturday Morning Stories.
I’ve written 50 stories over the past year (I took one week off and this week would have been 52). I’ve enjoyed writing them, but there are certainly stories that stick out more than others in my mind.
So, here is a list of my top five stories from the last year (in alphabetical order) and why I enjoyed the story so much.
If you haven’t read any the stories on this list, I encourage you to do so as a starting point for catching up. And, if you have already read some or all of them, I encourage you to re-read them. I’m sure you’ll discover a new detail you missed the first time.
It hit me like a fly hits the windshield of a speeding bus.
With the kids at school, my artist working in her studio, and me on a day off, I had stepped out of the house for a couple of hours to put up some of our Christmas light display on our western Canadian, suburban home. With 8,000 bulbs in our display, it takes a lot of time and even more thought to set it up.
By the time I had another 2,000 bulbs on the house, I was mentally drained.
I needed to shut my brain off. I needed to feel my cold-numbed fingers and toes. I needed to go inside.
It’s still early. The kids are still asleep in their beds waiting for their alarms to trigger that instant Christmas morning jump-out-of-bed reflex. The soft, warm lights of the Christmas tree are glowing across the living room. I have the TV tuned to the virtual fireplace which, I suppose, is keeping me virtually warm.
Under the tree, the presents are snugly tucked in. The bright colors and shiny bows are just waiting to be ripped into.
But as I sit here waiting for everyone to wake, I’m looking most forward to what awaits my artist wife under the tree.
Twas the week before Christmas on the Canadian prairie, As we sat in our living room in a mood most merry. My artist wife sitting in her blue easy chair, Knowing I was still hung up on her unicorn hair.
Our daughter was nestled all snug in her bed, While dreams of Kandinsky danced in her head. And our son lay asleep on his pillow, his mouth curled in a smirk, Dreaming about Griffey, Jeter, and Ripken, definitely not artwork.
When down in our basement there arose such a clatter, I jumped off our couch to see what was the matter. Away to the stairs I flew like a flash, Down through the basement landing, a very mad dash.
For as long as I can remember, I have loved Christmas lights. Many people do. But, my relationship with Christmas lights borders on obsession. Our light display sits at 8,000 lights, having grown from its initial 700 lights 12 years ago.
It takes me over 25 hours to put up our Christmas light display, not including all of the prep and test time I put in over the spring and summer months to develop new concepts and ideas for the display.
This year, with less than one week before I was planning to hit the “on” switch, it was her art background that pushed my final project over its remaining hurdle.