We rebuilt the display together—messy, crooked, imperfect, but alive. Ella welcomed Marlene with the blunt honesty only kids have, and slowly joy seeped back into all of us. On Christmas Eve, Marlene sat at our table, sharing cookies and memories she hadn’t spoken aloud in years.
That night, as the repaired lights glowed gently against the dark, I realized Christmas had found its way back—not through perfection, but through people piecing one another back together.
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