I survived Christmas Day. Once again. As the years go by I acquire more and more confidence that I will survive. And I do. We all sort of do.
Despite all my best efforts there was drama. There was trauma. With an acrimonious vindictive ex-, inevitable.
I survived. My little family survived. We are on the other side.
The day before Christmas my younger son asked if he could invite untethered friends over. Of course. Of course. Which meant more food (growing young men), more cooking, and that moment after about 5 hours on my feet when I felt like my body was going to disintegrate or die. It gets worse with every year. Age and arthritis. Not a heady combination.
But I put my smiley face on. Is Christmas Day a good day? It’s brilliant!