Picture this: You’re cruising down Lynn Fells Parkway, maybe you just swung by Soc’s to pick up your Christmas tree. As you continue on your way down the Fellsway, you feel a flicker of excitement. It’s dark out, maybe 6 p.m., and you can’t wait to see the glorious lights display that usually greets you.
But it isn’t there.
There is no line of cars slowly rolling past the “house with all the lights” — because there are no lights.
Your smile fades, and a little bit of Christmas joy disappears with it.
I’m sure a lot of people have experienced this by now. Social media has been blowing up with people asking, “What happened?”
I was fortunate enough to get an early warning from my cousins, who live only a few houses down.
“He’s moving,” they told me.
My heart had deflated a bit. This was back in October, and it became crystal clear when the yard lacked any inflatable pumpkins or creepy skeletons.
For many, it was maybe just a fleeting moment on a cold winter day — driving by the house, taking photos, and staring in awe at the stunning displays.
For me, it was more than that. Whenever my cousins hosted the holidays, we’d bundle up and walk down the street together, braving the cold for just a few minutes in front of the lights
It was always quick, but nothing beats the chaos of rushing around for coats and shoes, trying not to be the last one out the door. Hoods up, gloves on, or hands shoved in pockets as we shivered our way toward the display.
My dad also loved going on “rides” around Saugus and the North Shore just for fun. In recent years, he’d take our dog Percy on these rides whenever he could, something I’ve continued since my dad died. When we were younger, my brother and I would pile into the backseat, and my mom would be in the passenger seat.
During the holidays, he’d always say, “Who wants to see the lights?” and be met with a groan from the back. From there, it was 50/50 whether we would take the left onto Forest Street or drive by the lights display and cut through one of the many side streets to get home instead.
He’d always slow down, “ooh” and “ahh” at the yard, and point out whichever decoration caught his eye that year.
The lights became even more important last year when I jumped into the back of my cousin Anna’s car, camera ready, as her boyfriend Joe planned to propose to her.
It was supposed to be a Boston proposal, but the spot he had planned on using had closed its lights for the night, and for a moment, he was upset — convinced he missed his chance.
But then it dawned on me: Saugus has some pretty nice lights, and they were only 3 minutes from my house.
So I pulled my cousin aside and asked if they wanted to go look at them. She knew he was going to propose and had been a little upset that the timing hadn’t worked out, but she immediately agreed to the change in plans.
Now, my camera roll is full of photos of them walking toward the house, a little shy, a little nervous, ending in a bright, joyful proposal.
Moments like that are what turned “the house with all the lights” into a real part of our holidays.
It’s sad to see it go. And maybe whoever moves in next will share that same love for creating holiday magic. But for now, I’m just grateful for the happy memories — all from some bright bulbs and festive yard decorations.
