In an email correspondence regarding the up coming, though still somewhat distant holidays she remarked, “As you may remember, the children have been banned from my house on Christmas Eve (s) and I have made my last breakfast casserole.”

 While interesting, the idea that a parent, one that does not partake in hallucinogens of any (known) kind, can simply announce that her children are no longer welcome to home for the holidays, it is not altogether surprising.

It was the Christmas of 1998. It could have been 2026 and the story would still be a tragedy. At the time,  I was too old to be as deeply invested in the Christmas holidays as I was, but far too young (and smart) to request that people start treating me like an adult (and subsequently stop giving me gifts). I love a good gift. I love a bad gift. I love being given things.

That year she decided to eradicate the stocking.

 Clearly the stocking is an altogether optional part of the Christmas holiday.

 As though Jesus were optional from the manger.

It was an announcement that took us back a little. No stockings?

No. No stockings.

 And then it was Egg Casserole.

Next it’s her love.

Put Jesus back in the manger.