The Ghost of Christmas Past: May you be blessed with the bounty of food, family, and friends, but not too much.

Memories of Christmas Past are flying at me, whether I like it or not, through Facebook’s helpful reminders of my old posts. At the time, those posts were carefully curated to show us in our best moments — the young boys in matching GAP sweaters, the Christmas tree adorned in Crate and Barrel ornaments, a feast of fishes on the dining room table for Christmas Eve, the grown-ups in their nicest clothes. But truth is, we were a mess. 

We were just a few years away from the poverty years; starting a family, when were both still working our dissertations was not the optimal situation. I was teaching at the local state college. I still haven’t recovered from the semester when I taught four classes with three new preps. I created Christmas cards with long letters. I baked cookies and sent them to the aunties. I stretched every dollar to assemble the most thoughtful stocking stuffers for the kids. I managed guests and a seven course fishy Italian meal for 15 to 20 people. I photographed every moment and posted pictures on social media. I bought gifts for bus drivers, teachers, and therapists.

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