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Inside the house, the night is warm. I hadn’t realized that outside of enclosures, the natural color of night is various shades of black. Then, we took a ride out on one of the most illuminated nights of the year.

There weren’t fireworks, but displays of colored lights could be seen everywhere. Amazingly enough — this Christmas night was almost fully clear in the Bay Area. The Transamerica Pyramid’s beacon shone brightly; so bright that I worried about harming my eyes by staring at its oscillating twinkle. Nearly full, the moon glowed behind puffy, high altitude clouds which reminded me of dragon scale. A faint halo ringed the moon.

The City itself lit the skies. Skyscrapers shone green and blue lights up the sides of their walls, glowing like the bases of bubble lights.

What I did not anticipate was being able to make out the crests of the hills, both coming and going, by the border the lights made with the edge of our distance vision.

I wonder how people can live here, I thought. Maybe their family bought a house in 1906 or something, and they just haven’t let go of it.

Flecks of rain spattered the windshield, rolling upward, towards the roof. The myriad of colored lights passing the windows sparkled inside these droplets before they were wiped clean.

My friend, Jenn, still worked tonight. We were on our way to drop SeƱorita bread off at his bar. It’s a special kind of roll which tastes and feels like a soft doughnut; including the dusting of sugar. They had turned out to be very popular with our guests — when we had guests.

Unfortunately, I had to make the drive, as M had caught some kind of cold in our pre-Christmas shopping. I don’t think it was a big deal in her eyes, but it did mean that our holiday celebration had to be transplanted to a future date.

At this point, I’m getting sick, too. Not too happy about that, but as the member of my family with the most robust immune system currently, I can make it work.