An old college beau refused to begin to date seriously until I promised that we'd still be exchanging Christmas cards into the far future, no matter the outcome. I promised, and until this year I've kept that promise. I can't send him one this year since he didn't bother sending me a forwarding address, that's ok, he hasn't kept his end of the bargain in a decade now. I wish him well, and I thank him for getting me started on a tradition I most certainly wouldn't have started on my own.
It's a strange thing to try and distill a year of family life into a card and one page newsletter. I combine the philosophical essay and the all-out brag fest into one, hopefully, interesting jumble. This year was especially difficult because the year was a rather strange one and full of rather strange happenings. In the end I played it safe, and the letter is pretty indistinguishable from the year's previous--new clip art though.
I considered skipping this year, but I've come to rely on writing out those addresses. It's satisfying to come to the end and look at the large stack of Christmas cheer ready to keep the US Post Office busy for a couple days. The feeling of keeping in touch with people as diverse as my kindergarten teacher--Hi, Miss Briggs! and my old college boyfriend--Oops. Having such a variety of people that are worth a stamp is reassuring that the world really is the optimistic place I've always expected it to be.
I'm sorry if you didn't get your card this year. It would help if you kept up with the forwarding address.
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