Old Lights, New Traditions

Pull the old box from the attic again. Tangled bulbs and ornaments from way

back when. Faded notes from a kid's first grade. A glitter glue

star that's lost half its shape. The lights still flicker, though a few

gave out. But we hang 'em up with love and doubt. There's a new

wreath on the neighbor's door. FaceTime calls instead of folks on the floor.

We stream the choir from across the state. Share our dinners off digital plates.

But laughter still echoes through these halls. Even if it's coming through speaker

calls. Oh, lights, new traditions. Passing down familiar