Before me the world became brighter with just the introduction of a solitary house. The home had been built above a little stream, which flowed under the bridge I was now crossing. Little red posts supported the house in places where the ground sloped down towards the brook. The entire house was sky blue, but the porch and corner panels of the walls and roof had been painted red. The window panes of both the first and the second floors were white. This gave me the delightful impression that this house was in reality a picture from a child's coloring book. A childlike magic, like that during Christmastime, permeated the atmosphere. The house was, after all, still decorated for the holiday season. Small wreaths peered out from behind the attic and first floor windows. Green garlands and red ribbons with matching bows were wrapped around the porch railing, and cascaded down the steps. In the front yard lay a quaint manger scene with Joseph and Mary gazing tenderly at their newborn baby.
Compared to all this splendor, other houses seemed to pale. The house we had passed prior to this holiday home, had eggshell walls and an ecru roof. As I reluctantly continued down the sidewalk, a dry, icy wind blew in my face, and I felt tears come to my eyes' rescue. Out of the corner of my glassy eye, I espied a showcase window on the other side of the blue and red house. Rounding the bend, I saw something that dazzled and delighted my senses. There, in the window case, was a leg lamp, as clear as day. This was just icing on the cake. Anyone who has watched A Christmas Story and remembers the infamous leg lamp, must be grinning, as I was when I came across it. That silly smile was plastered on my face for three blocks at least. One house had brightened my day.
For those of you who have not seen A Christmas Story. Here is a replica of the leg lamp.
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