I went to see the Trans Siberian Orchestra on Sunday afternoon. We had talked about going to see them for years (as I am a sucker for all things red, white and ho-ho-ho related), and this year my fiance surprised me with tickets as an early birthday gift.
The lights finally dimmed at the Garden, and the first reverberating notes of the electric guitar bounced from the ceiling as the stage lit up in an array of colors. The following hours were a blur of snow, melody, and pyrotechnics that left me ecstatic. It was a fantastic way to kick of the holiday season (that is AFTER Thanksgiving, mind you).
And today I found myself driving to work, window down, and attempting to recapture that holiday spirit despite the 60 degree weather.
It was difficult.
I know people all around the country- all around the globe- celebrate Christmas with palm trees rather than evergreens, and I’m sure Santa has a whole collection of flip flops and hawaiian shirts that he sports on some of his rides. But I am a hot cocoa loving, snowman building, scarf wearing Christmas junkie who has been deprived of these pleasures with no end in sight. Where have all the snowflakes gone?
And while the bell ringing Santa outside the grocery store still evokes the Good Will Towards (wo)Man in me, I miss the wonder of the swirling snow and the twinkling lights of the houses that accompany the carols on the radio.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.