One More Ride on the Jolly Trolley

I try so hard to keep our traditions alive and include my husband, even as dementia quietly rearranges the rules of our life together. Maybe it’s my stubborn hope that we can keep making memories for our grown kids, or maybe I’m just trying to recreate a time when my husband could still help me haul boxes of ornaments down from the attic without me needing to coach literally every step of the task.

This year, our youngest son wanted to introduce his girlfriend to one of our long standing holiday rituals, Fantasy in Lights. We’ve been going for years, and it’s everything a Christmas tradition should be with twinkling lights, music, and family togetherness.  The excursion also includes a generous sprinkling of everything that’s difficult about holiday outings like crowds, endless lines, and the questionable weather.

Given the steep ticket prices, I hesitated to spend the money on something that, judging from our past crowded adventures with my husband, might not end up being quite as merry as advertised. But I hopped online and grabbed some of the last remaining seats on the earliest Jolly Trolley ride. We loaded the car with family, blankets, hats, and enough “just in case” items to stock a small outpost. Then we made the 40 minute trek to Callaway Gardens.

To my shock and deep gratitude, everything went ridiculously smoothly. We cruised into the parking lot, zipped through the restroom line (a Christmas miracle), and boarded the trolley with hardly any wait. For an hour, we rode through scene after scene, millions of lights twinkling to the background holiday music.

Wayne was quiet for most of it, taking it all in. But toward the end, he started clapping after each recorded narration piped through the speakers of the Jolly Trolley. It was sweet and unexpected, and my heart grabbed onto it like a keepsake.

When the ride ended, we shuffled back to the car, blasted the heater, and laughed as we passed miles of cars inching toward the entrance. Our timing had been impeccable…a small but glorious caregiver victory. With Christmas songs on the radio, we ended the night at our favorite Mexican restaurant. Between chips, salsa, and a frozen margarita, Wayne kept saying how perfect the night was. “Everything was great,” he repeated over and over. “I really enjoyed it.”

And here’s the truth…I wasn’t sure he would. I wasn’t sure any of us would. But it was a good night.  It wasn't just one we dragged him through but one he genuinely loved.

I don’t know if we’ll be able to go again next year. Dementia isn’t big on promises and it rarely offers do overs. But this year, we got one more trip to Fantasy in Lights. One more night to sit beside each other on a Jolly Trolley, wrapped in blankets and blinking lights, making a memory that I will carry long after the season fades.

And for that, for this one more time, I am deeply grateful. What a beautiful way to begin the Christmas season.