Lessons From the Kissing Booth

This morning I was in the kitchen putting together a stew for dinner. My youngest brother clomped downstairs and camped out next to the sink, asking, "Are you sure you know how to cook?" Eventually I told him that, you know, I live by myself, so of course I know how to cook. That doesn't make any sense, but he bought it anyway. He certainly inhaled the food fast enough come dinnertime.

I spent most of the day going through boxes that mainly house my porcelain doll collection. It's been wrapped up for the past 10 years, so I felt that the only polite thing would be to send the ones I didn't want to keep for future generations of samantha to other little girls who wanted them. Along the way, I came across a whole box full of stuffed monkeys, a collection of troll dolls, and the stuffed koala my grandfather had in the hospital before he died.
Later, as my brothers bickered and wrestled next to me, I watched video tapes of Christmases past. I find myself haunted by ghosts I didn't know were waiting behind me, but I'm glad that I came.

Now the presents are out and the stockings are filled, and I'm keeping an ear out for the boys, to make sure they're actually asleep and aren't going to sneak down and see the things that should wait until morning.

Merry Christmas, all of you! I love you all.