Slender strings of silver tinsel shone on the tree, reflecting the colorful cheer of the bulbous lights. I would stand by the tree mesmerized by the beauty. A moth to the flame, I could not help myself. I wanted to capture a bit of the glow in the palm of my hand and tuck it away to be brought out again some dark winter's day when I needed light and color.
Inevitably, I would touch a bulb, scorching my skin. Quickly, I'd place my finger in my mouth wetting it to relieve the pain. My eyes would fill with tears from the burning, fragmenting the colors into a kaleidoscope of beauty.
I must have managed to capture a bit of that light in my chubby hand long ago. I close my eyes on this dark winter's day and I can see the glow.
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