It's December 23rd, and we're in the car on our way home from our annual visit to Christmas at Liseberg. Frozen, satisfied, and filled with calm. That kind of tranquility that you only get from walking around for hours among brightly blinking trees to the tunes of Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas" from 1984. I am 16 years old, and my younger sister has already fallen asleep in the back seat next to me.
During my upbringing, my mom was determined that December 23rd would be a peaceful day without stress and last-minute rushes. Therefore, it was decided in our house that all Christmas presents, holiday sweets, and cleaning should be done by December 22nd. It didn't matter how much was happening around us. The evening at Liseberg was a night for the four of us to come together as a family, put everything else aside, pause daily life, and step into our Christmas bubble among the lights at Liseberg.
In hindsight, I have reflected on how much that evening at Liseberg meant to me and whether it's because of it that I appreciate Christmas so much. That united, albeit somewhat forced, pause in the Christmas hustle and bustle. The light in the darkness. Perhaps it wasn't just the fact that, for once, we did something together as a family. Instead, it was because of that planned break the day before Christmas Eve that gave me the opportunity to take a moment, lift my gaze, and thus enjoy the impending tomorrow.
Like the feeling I have the day before Christmas Eve, I carry it with me in my job. As a production manager, the experience of the event doesn't begin on the actual execution day, but for me, that anticipatory excitement sets in long before. It's like the moment when the first piece of the stage carpet is laid, and we test sound and light.
That particular moment when the stage lights illuminate the empty event space creates such a clear shift in mood. Similar to the feeling when you plug in the Christmas tree lights for the first time. Like a visual starting signal for the transition from planning to execution. And the project team that, after months of preparation and creative holiday chaos, finally steps into the event bubble.
We often talk about momentum in our industry and what creates it. But momentum is not only in specific moments or physical things but also in the emotions we carry from the experience we've been through and those we've shared the moment with.
In the end, no one will remember if the bright red event carpet we ordered instead arrived in velvety raspberry red. Or if it rained that evening at Liseberg. Instead, it's the joy and camaraderie in the moment that we will carry with us.
How the lights lit up the December night.
