Normally, I'm a huge sucker for Christmas. It's always been my favorite time of year and Christmas Eve has consistently been perched atop my rankings for favorite day of the year. What began as a youthful infatuation with getting presents has evolved into a love of the time and atmosphere.
It's not the gifts that you remember years later, it's the way the Christmas tree smelled as you brought it into the house. Or how you nervously looked out the side mirror, praying that you wouldn't see an arbor silhouette cascading down the side of the car, backlit by the bokeh headlights of the cars behind you.
When we think back, it's all about the senses we felt, not the stuff we got.
Unfortunately, this year is being dominated by some pretty overwhelming feelings. It was a pretty tough year for me personally and it seems to be going out with a bang, crippling my mother's boyfriend along the way.
Being happy around this time wasn't a task growing up; it just was. This year it's been a hike. Long, slow and painful.
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