My favorite thing this time of year about my proximity to the lake is that every year I get treated to the Lighted Boat Parade put on by Argosy Cruises.
It's the "Christmas Ship Festival," in which a flotilla of vessels, large and small, deck out in colorful lights and sail around to various spots in the region. On board the main boat is always a choir and an unbelievable sound system capable of projecting the music easily a mile or two in all directions.
Most years I don't look at the schedule to see when the boats will come to the waterfront park near where I live. I just look forward to the surprise, never knowing exactly which night it will come.
It never fails to rouse me, no matter what I'm doing inside my little apartment home. Always on some evening nearing Christmas, I suddenly hear an ethereal sound as though heavenly angels are descending into my front yard. My upstairs neighbors and I then run outside to watch and listen to the 20-minute performance.
"Silent Night," then "JOY TO THE WORLD" they sing. "HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!" is always the last chorus to rise as the boats begin to pull away at the end.
It's been my favorite, private little Christmas tradition for many years.
It's an event that I'd always hoped to share within my most special relationship. But these last four Christmas seasons, he was always far away and I was alone, or else we were out doing something else. I started trying to plan our holiday activities so at least I wouldn't have to miss the night myself. Like I said, it's my one special personal holiday tradition.
Two years ago, we actually managed to make a special family event out of it. He and the girls and I bundled into the car and drove to the Ballard Locks on a night when the boats would be passing through.
It was so festive to be there with all of the other onlookers.
Then we dashed to the car and drove madly to Golden Gardens Park, the final destination for the boats that particular evening.
The four of us trounced through the sand together, his youngest daughter and I taking off our shoes so we could feel the sand between our toes, nevermind how chilly it was that night. I remember she happily offered me her hand, as my other hand held his, and we walked chummily toward the water's edge together. My heart felt warm and happy and hopeful.
There was a HUGE bonfire on the beach, something I would expect to see at a "Burning Man" festival or something. I took pictures, with my little handheld digital, of the boats out in the water. It seemed like the evening even had a nice impact on his oldest daughter, who was at that time still pretty resistant to anything so-called "family time" that involved me.
It was such a special evening.
Tonight when the boats came, when I heard the angelic singing descending to embrace my home, I stuck my feet in some shoes and went outside... but I couldn't stay out there, couldn't watch for long. My special tradition has now become bittersweet, changed and colored by loss.
In remembrance, though, here are some of the pictures I took on that beautiful evening two years ago. I hope some day maybe it will hurt less. Maybe I'll go back to Golden Gardens to watch again and enjoy the bonfire and festivity. Maybe I'll even be able some day to print one of these pictures and hang it on my photo wall as I originally intended.
Not yet, though. :(
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