Phoenix, the capital city of Arizona, is a metropolitan; there are many cities inside the one: Chandler, Scottsdale, Tempe... all divided, but united under the one name of Phoenix.

In the Southern corner of Phoenix, right by the Gila River Indian Reservation, is the small metro area of Ahwatukee. Ahwatukee is a close community, and after you've lived there for a while, you can't travel anywhere within the small town without seeing at least three people you know.

A community like this has traditions... like the senior midterm part at Jack in the Box; or the Harvest Festivals at the two middle schools; or the Turkey Trots at the four or five elementary schools; or the Easter Egg Hunt at Horizon Church.

But everyone's favorite tradition, by far, is the Festival of Lights.

There are meridians all down Chandler Boulevard in Ahwatukee. In these meridians are Palo Verde trees, various cacti, and sage bushes. During the entirety of November, volunteer crews put white Christmas lights on each tree, bush, saguaro, ocotillo and prickly pear. The Saturday after Thanksgiving, a Festival of Lights kick-off party is thrown at Desert Foothills Park, with rides, games, shows and shops. When night falls, a motorcycle parade rides through the park, led by Santa Claus in a 'snowbird' (the derogatory term for northern folks who spent their winters in Phoenix to get away from the snow) outfit: sandals, khaki shorts and a T-shirt with sunglasses.

After the parade makes its rounds, the meridian lights up, and oh, the beauty! Arizonians are deprived of the simple beauty of Christmas snow, and many throughout the southwest mournfully sing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," but most of those residing in Ahwatukee prefer their version. Brilliant snowflakes and bells hanging from the trees, ivory-white cacti, and the angel and her stars hanging on South Mountain. Yes, there's no more beautiful place than Ahwatukee in December.

No one thought so more than new resident, Snitch Riccio. Born and raised in New York, Snitch had known only the snowy, freezing winters of the North. In Ahwatukee, however, he could stay outside on the twenty-second of December in jeans and a light jacket, as he was doing now.

His girlfriend, a six-and-a-half year resident of Ahwatukee, was a different story. As they stood in the hayride line at Altadena Middle School, waiting for the carts to return, Swinger McDonaghey was buttoned up in her heavy letter jacket, shivering and sipping apple cider (bought from her little sister's girl scout troop) to keep warm.

"It's not that cold, Swinger," Snitch smiled. "It's barely fifty-five."

"I know, I know," she wrinkled her nose. "Sorry if my blood has thinned since I moved here a way long time ago."

He kissed her cheek. "Not your fault."

"Wait until you get a real Phoenix summer," Swinger muttered. "You weren't here in July. You won't be laughing when that time comes again."

He laughed anyway. "Why did you drag us out here tonight? You made a big deal out of it."

"The Tuesday Jazz Band performs here in about forty-five minutes." She sipped her cider. "I wanna see them."

"Isn't that the one Shad's in?"

"And Mob. Trick too."

"God, you have too many boyfriends."

"I wish," she giggled. "So you like our winters?"

"Winter? Feels more like fall." He grinned as she scowled at him, her teeth chattering.

"If you'd lived here as long as I have, you'd be cold too," she tugged on the collar of her jacket. "God, I wish this thing had a hood."

"Remind me again why you won't let me keep you warm?"

'''Cause my mom's right over there," she grinned. "Freak."

"Ah. Makes sense." He paused. "Not really."

"Y'know what, shut up." She shoved her hands in her pockets, staring at the road. "Where are the friggin' carts? At this rate, we won't be back before the jazz band's first song."

"So you miss the first song. So what?"

She looked at him. "Their first song is In The Mood."

"Oh. Didn't know. Sorry."

She sighed and looked back at the road. Her face lit up. "Oh, here are the carts!"

The carts, full of people and hay bales, pulled up in front of them and unloaded the people out the back. Swinger was delayed for a moment as she chatted with her best friend, Mani, and Mani's boyfriend, Slash. Snitch stood to the side, feeling left out. Even after bonding with Swinger over the tumultuous band season, he felt uncomfortable around her odd assortment of non-band friends. Mani didn't seem to trust Snitch anyway, and Slash made the Yankee boy feel like a bad boyfriend, the way he always made a big deal out of the tiny Mani.

Mani and Slash left, and Snitch and Swinger climbed onto the nearest cart. Swinger's dawdling made it so they were forced to sit on the hay bales nearest the edge of the cart, but Snitch didn't mind that. He pulled Swinger into his lap and held her as the carts pulled out of the parking lot.

"What's the point to this?" Snitch asked as the cart pulled out of the parking long and turned to move up the hill. "We're going away from Chandler."

"The higher up the hill, the richer the residents," Swinger explained. "So there are beautiful house-lights up here. They also take us to South Mountain Park for the Luminaria Hike."

"Luminaria Hike?"

"There's a cement walkway at the beginning of the hikes up South Mountain. They line candles in pretty paper bags up along it, and we get to walk up to the end, where they have a fantastic view of Ahwatukee, all lit up."

This was where the hayride host, none other than Swinger and Snitch's bandmate Notes Croswait, stood up and introduced himself. The band kids sang carols at an obnoxiously loud volume, while the other riders either watched with mild curiousity or sung quietly along with them. Notes pulled Swinger up to help him conduct the carolers (Everyone knew she wanted to be the '04 season third drum major), and the other riders found the Christmas Spirit, and delighted in the chilly Arizona night, the stars shining brightly above their heads.

Just as Notes was wrapping up 'Sleigh Ride', the carts pulled into the lot at South Mountain Park and unloaded. Swinger took Snitch's hand and led him up the walkway, snuggling into his shoulder as they strolled.

"You're so affectionate when your parents aren't around," Snitch teased.

"You're gonna love this," she said, ignoring his comment. "I can promise you will."

"It's a nice idea, but I don't see the point," Snitch admitted, looking at the tiny candles in pale blue paper bags.

"This is just the walk," Swinger explained. "Wait 'til we get to the top."

"Top? We hike all the way to the top?"

"No!" She smacked his shoulder. "Idiot. To the top of the walkway... right up there." She pointed to the area up ahead, where an arc of candles blocked off the rest of the path. "It's a viewing area. You can see our entire neighborhood from there."

They ambled up the rest of the walkway and turned to face the town. Snitch's eyes widened as he started over the houses. Lights blinked everywhere, so many colors, and the ones of Chandler gave the illusion of ivory snow. Snitch could see the red and green lights he and his roommates had put up the day before. He saw white icicles and blue rock rivers in the yards of the gated communities. Arizona, he realized, lacked in many things, but it held its own special beauty, as was proved in this bright, clean, electric version of snow.

"It's gorgeous," he breathed.

"I knew you'd like it," she said with a grin. "I love this town."

"Really? Everyone else hates it."

"I know," she sighed. "But I've loved every minute here. Here's where my friends are, and my band, and the schools and neighbors I grew up with. Ahwatukee is my home."

He gave her a sideways hug. "You've lived here longest, right? I can understand."

"Good, then this conversation is finished," she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and Snitch laughed.

"We better get back to the cart," he said. "C'mon, Notes'll be waiting."

They walked back to the cart and hopped in, this time sitting closer to the front of the cart, near Notes. When the carts pulled away, the bandmates again led their cart in obnoxious carols, laughing hysterically as a man in one house yelled for them to shut the hell up before he called the cops.

They arrived back at Atladena just as the jazz band was sitting down. Swinger leapt off the cart without waiting for Snitch, and ran to watch. Snitch followed her slowly, amused.

The band played for a half hour, and closed on 'Coconut Champagne'. Swinger chatted with Mr. Krill, the Tuesday Jazz director, for a while before Snitch grabbed her arm and told her he had to get her home. She said good-bye to her instructor, then followed Snitch to the parking lot, where his green jeep was parked and waiting.

"Y'know, I could just walk home," Swinger said, climbing into the jeep. "It's only two miles. Downhill. And I'm a marcher. I walk at least twenty miles a day during the season."

"I know," Snitch answered, getting in and starting the engine. "But I can't let you do that after dark. Too dangerous."

"Only 'cause of the damn reservation," she muttered.

"Did you just make a racist remark?" he questioned, backing out of his parking spot.

"No, I mean that people could commit crimes here, then just run off to the reservation and get away. They have different laws and such out there," she paused. "Oo! Take the Chandler route! We can see the lights!"

Snitch flipped on his blinker and turned left onto Chandler at the stoplight. "Wow... it's even better up close!"

They drove along the road, the dazzling electric snow flashing shadows and light across their faces. Swinger leaned forward over the dashboard to dreamily watch the trees and cacti dance past. Snitch turned on the radio; KEZ 99.9 was playing Christmas music nonstop, and the addition of 'Silent Night' to the mix created a perfect air of Christmas-to-Come.

Snitch paused at the next stoplight and sighed contentedly. "Y'know at Disneyland, where they had the peppermint and hot chocolate smell on Main Street?" He asked. Swinger nodded. "That's all this needs to be the perfect Christmas moment.

"We don't have snow though. Real snow, anyway. Just this," she gestured at the white palo verde and saguaro standing guard outside her window.

"Who needs real snow?" Snitch grinned. "This is the best you've got, and it's better than real snow."

She grinned back and they kissed briefly. Snitch then turned the corner onto Fry and drove off to Swinger's home, for a night of peppermints and hot chocolate by her pine-scented Christmas tree.

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

Okay, that was pointless. I don't know if I like this story or not. It's just kinda... there. I like the fact that it's about the Festival of Lights... but I dunno.

I guess it's kinda an amendment to While the Thunder Rolls, 'cause I mentioned Notes and Mr. Krill, but I dunno about that either.

Oh! For those northern Yanks out there, ocotillo, saguaros and prickly pear are all types of cactus. A palo verde is a kind of weird little tree, named for it's green bark (palo verde = green tree). I have all four in my front yard, LOL, even though my sister's allergic to the tree, so we have to get it cut. Damn. That makes me sad. Ah well!

Anyhoo, now you all know what I do every Christmas. It's fun stuff! I love it out here, seriously. ^_^

I dedicate this story to Madisyn Elizabeth Stutler, born Dec. 3rd 2003 to my cousin Elizabeth and her husband Chad! Congrats to them! XD