It’s hard to believe I’ve been breathing for more than two decades now. It’s sad to remember that barely more than thirteen years ago my grandmother, Lilly, passed away. It’s difficult for me to think back a year ago, and it would have been impossible for me to image that I’d be here now. But here I am.
Only twice in my life has Christmas been melancholy. Here’s for the charm.
Here’s for surviving. It’s important.