Hanging on to Christmas

By Stephanie J Bartik.

The Christmas spirit was hard to find this year. There was so much turmoil, so much grief, stress, and loss – that it felt fragile, elusive.

I was raised by a mom who shopped all year long, quietly stashing away treasures to make sure we had the best Christmas possible. Seems she lived for Christmas.  Because of her, Christmas has always meant kindness and goodwill to me, being just a little gentler with people, even complete strangers.

This year, I didn’t feel that spirit. So, I went looking for it.

I played Christmas music after the wrapping paper and bows were long discarded, after family meals were finished, after visitors had gone home, and office workers had returned to normal clothes and everyday routines. Still, I kept missing it. And I wasn’t ready to let Christmas slip away without at least one small spark.

On social media, I kept seeing videos of people taking their dogs to see Christmas lights—wagging tails, wide-eyed wonder, pure joy. I wanted that moment. But many of the houses in my neighborhood had already gone dark, reduced to a single porch light, as if everyone was eager to pack the season away.

So, I woke my dog, Bowie, and asked the magic question:

“Want to go for a ride in the car?”

Of course.

Ears up, body twisting into an enthusiastic, chaotic ballet that only a 108-pound “puppy” could manage—more noise than grace, but unmistakably saying I’m in. And just like that, we were off, searching for Christmas before it took its final, tired breath.

We headed north on Route 9, and then—there they were.

Lights.

On the night of January 4, 2026, we found the Christmas lights at Quick Response in Round Lake, New York. It was the final night of the display. The traffic was gone—apparently, I was the only overexcited person left—keeping a poor employee company on their last shift.

Somewhere along the drive, Bowie had fallen asleep. I was clearly more excited than he was. I opened the back window so he could take it all in with me—a quiet, shared moment between us and my camera.

In a high-pitched voice, I exclaimed, “Look, Bowie! Lights! There’s a tree—ooh, a snowman!”

He responded with a low, unimpressed grumble—probably suggesting I close the window, reminding me it was nineteen degrees, and asking if I could keep it down because he was trying to nap.

That’s when it hit me.

The Christmas spirit can’t be forced on anyone else. It has to come from within.

And if no one else wants to share it, that shouldn’t stop you from embracing it yourself.

So go out. Enjoy whatever holiday—or any ordinary day—you can. Don’t let anyone steal your sparkle. We only go around once in this life, and we might as well take in all the magic and light we can.

 

More from Stephanie J Bartik …