There is something about an old Victorian at Christmas.

During the rest of the year, they stand, some straighter than others, stoic and proud.

Wise and haughty.

Regal and knowing.

With their awkward floor plans and questionable plumbing.

Some show their age more than others, under the harsh light of most days.

But at Christmas…….

At Christmas, with their windows decked with wreaths and holly, their lampposts dressed in bows, they all stand a little taller.

A little straighter.

They command the eye, demand attention and rule the street, just a little bit more.

They come alive with nostalgia and magic.

They call upon Christmases gone by.

They remember all of the trees and all of the years.

The laughter and restlessness of all of the children; grown and gone by now.

The spirits of Christmas Past, Present and Future, come together and exist in awe of each other.

We are all ghosts in these old houses.

At Christmas, we meet face to face, while the houses glow and take us in, and make us part of their Christmas story.

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