By Danielle Pajek

It’s Christmas Eve night.

You’ve just unwrapped the Christmas pajamas that you begged your mom to let you open early.

You run upstairs to throw them on and when you come back down your mom is by the door. She shoves you into too big coats and attempts to contain your mop of hair under a red beanie while your dad is outside brushing snow off the car.

You step out the door, snow crunching under your gray boots, and jump into the backseat.

Mom fiddles with the music, looking for the perfect Christmas station. “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch” fills the car, and you make sure to look at your little brother when you sing “I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole.”

“Don’t start,” Your mom says as your dad backs out of the driveway.

Now, the journey begins.

You drive through your neighborhood. Mundane houses suddenly fill you with intrigue and awe.

Your neighbor’s driveway is lined with candy canes.

The boring white house down the street is outlined in green and red lights.

The blue house on the corner has a blown-up snowman swaying slightly in the chilly breeze.

The yellow house where your best friend lives drips with glowing icicles.

You watch as your mother puts an address in the GPS.

The true destination.

The ultimate house.

To your young mind the place is a mansion, a winter wonderland.

There are white, shining deer scattered through the yard. Multicolored lights cover every tree and bush in site. A small machine projects red and green freckles over the siding. A sign at the foot of the driveway flashes Merry Christmas at you.

And best of all, on the roof, is Santa and his reindeer. You squint past the brilliant lights and try to see if Rudolph is there. Sure enough, the reindeer at the front’s nose glows a soft shade of red.

You’re satisfied and ready to go home to put out cookies and milk.

But that was then. Now, you’re no longer a child staring out of frost covered windows. You’re a student. A professor. Public Safety.

Maybe you think you’re too old to admire the lights.

Maybe you think there is nothing to see.

The good news is that you’re wrong.

You’re never too old to go back to your roots.

The school even has their own happy snowman and leaning Santa to offer.

And, of course, if you get lost in the glory of exploration fret not. There is a star to guide your way home.

Happy Holidays from the staff of the Redhawk Post!