To the house on the street corner…

To the house on the street corner down a block:

I am writing to the public in regards to the fact that your house is covered in holiday lights two weeks before Thanksgiving. Seriously? Even the Santa Clause Winter Wonderland guy down the road hasn’t plugged his yard in yet.

For some reason, I find your garish ice-blue lights strangely revolting, yet optimistically hopeful. If I close my eyes, I can almost smell pine trees and fireplaces.

However, in a little more than a week, it will be the time for Thanksgiving; you know, the strange holiday that precedes the actual Winter Holiday season? It revolves around a turkey and is frequently overlooked by marketers who like to skip straight over to Black Friday and Christmastime.

Apparently, the holiday tradition of getting together as family, eating until you have to change to elastic waistband pants and passing out in front of the television over Thanksgiving football is dying in favor of running out and shopping till 7 a.m. the next morning. Don’t forget to pick up the Christmas tree on the way home!

Don’t get me wrong — the winter holiday season has been one of my favorite times of year. No matter what religion you are, it’s lovely to see everyone bustling about under the stupor that capitalism and commercialism have induced.

Yet despite that, there is still something that gives a certain cheer to the air, regardless of marketing. Everyone cuddles closer together, sharing body heat in the frigid weather, entwining their mittened and gloved hands as they snuggle up with peppermint mochas and gingerbread lattes.

Regardless, it is thanks to people like you, House on the Street Corner, that the rest of us must brace ourselves for the onslaught of mistletoe and silver bells raining down upon us as we march through the non-existent flurries that pass for something called “snow” here in Georgia.

We must bravely don our tastefully elegant holiday wear, bring out the winter coats and prepare for the barrage of awkward questions from Aunt Sue and Uncle Jim:

“No, I don’t want to become a writer. Yes, I did hear that Cousin Melvin graduated top of his class with a PhD in astrophysical engineering and neuroscience. Betty Ruth won the Nobel Prize? Oh how lovely!” *insert discreet eye roll here, make some polite excuse to leave, then hunt down the waiter with the champagne and shrimp cocktail*

With little choice in what we listen to on the radio, we must smile and sing along as cheery songs brainwash us with messages about fat men in red suits, cookies, latkes, spinning clay tops and babies singing Kumbaya.

Not to mention candles; you can’t forget the scented candles. Winter Garden, Christmas Spice, Peppermint Schnapps… oh wait no, that last one’s just a figment of my imagination.

So thank you, House with the Garish Holiday Lights, for reminding us of the true spirit of the Holidays.

Yours truly,

Nicole Motahari

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