The lights were colored ones, and I have a theory that more boys prefer colored lights, and girls, white ones. I probably wouldn’t have bothered to hang lights on my own, but, like cooking a meal for two, there are certain things that you would gladly do for someone else that you might not bother to do for yourself. Only, it was for me too. In the daylight, as we hung the twisted strands of lights using thumbtacks and masking tape, Zech worried it looked tacky. “Wait until it gets darker,” I assured him, and sure as Santa, when the sun ducked out of sight and evening set in, the cords and cheap rigging disappeared, and we were left with warmly glowing reds and blues and greens and orange, and it was, instantly, Christmas.