It's one of my most evocative memories of childhood Christmas Eve: the candles in the porch windows of every house on the way to Midnight mass.
It is perhaps a hangover from a more Catholic Ireland but its significance was transformed by the Presidency of Mary Robinson.
While the Church's certainties have long been eaten away, the inevitability of the boat and plane remain: poignant and ubiquitous; as if the Septic Tiger never happened.
When she put a candle in the kitchen window at Áras an Uachtaráin, it was to remind the rest of the country of its diaspora; those who wouldn't be home for Christmas; those for whom it was their first in a foreign field; for those who never came home but never forgot.
Now, perhaps more than at any time since Mary Robinson first mooted it, the candle in the window should be a reminder to those at home of those who've gone.
Nollaig Shona dhíobh go léir.

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