Winter Delight

You drive past the shopping area for thirty blocks. You enter a neighborhood from the 40's. You turn on a street with a bad name. All of a sudden you have entered another time, another place. You have entered into what I call, very lovingly, crazy house land. It is inhabited by a house with a roof covered with a 60's christmas scene. A house whose garage is now Santa's workshop with no glass in the windows so that donations can be made to the electric bill. The window pops open every five seconds and santa waves his hand with rudolph by his side. Where the living room window should be is a display of gingerbread men and candies, a trio of carolers line the hallway. In the mailbox are letters written to santa, wishing for different gifts with illustrations for clarification. The lawn is worn down to mud, and one has to wonder, how many feet have passed on this soil. How many people have looked up at this glowing house and smiled and laughed? A weathered face peers through the front door at the visitors on his property. He does not smile, does not wave or tell us to go away. He simply looks and nods and goes to sit in his house of lights, this child like dream that appears in real life once a year.