It’s late November again, and my thoughts, like many of yours, turn to crisp leaves, perhaps an early season snow, gallons of freshly pressed apple cider, and the upcoming gratitude for the harvest. Ah, the romanticized Thanksgiving.
When we’re young, our holiday traditions feel like all there ever is. And so it went, for me, for twenty-three years.
And then came 2003, when I moved 2,000 miles away, and had to abruptly change my understanding of holidays and traditions.
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