Every year I’m more touched by our neighborhood’s light displays. The tiny fist they shake at the night — and their individual ways of doing so.

Some are fairy-tale-like — white pin lights dripping from overhangs and eaves. Others are almost garish — bright colors strung from limb to pole, like a carnival or fiesta.

There are spotlit wreaths and a blow-up nativity scene.

The key thing is that today, almost at this very instant, we turn from the darkness to the light.