Two years after I was widowed at age 57, I realized I was ready to have a Christmas tree again. But not just any tree. I wanted one that would tell a story—my story.
When my beautiful husband Michael was still here and we were raising our two little girls, the family Christmas tree was right out of a preschooler’s play corner. Jess and Susannah would bring home the yarn-haired angels, glittery dreidels, and Kwanzaa candles they’d made in their diverse urban classrooms, and soon those rollicking decorations would be part of our star-topped tree.
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