Many people look forward to the holidays - the run-up to Christmas with its twinkling lights, glowing smiles, hearty food, and laughter. I get it, I used to. As a kid, Christmas really was magical; even though we didn't have much, it never seemed to matter as we had each other, and it was always full of singing Christmas songs in our PJs in the kitchen every morning through December or making shit paper decorations to hang up around the house, even my older brothers loved it.
Now, for me, the road to visiting family is an exercise in patience and pain. So I haven't done it for five years now. The guilt, that tender ache of crushing guilt, is the only thing I feel in the run-up these days.
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