The Christmas I Finally Chose Myself
PART 4 — THE CHRISTMAS THEY HAD TO MAKE On Christmas morning, I woke to the sound of waves and someone knocking gently at my door. Margaret stood in the hallway holding a tray. “Merry Christmas,” she said. The tray held coffee, warm biscuits, fruit, and a small vase containing a sprig of holly. “You didn’t have to do this.” “No,” she said. “But I wanted to.” The difference between …
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