MY FIRST SINGLE CHRISTMAS
Christmas night I stood in the bathroom brushing my teeth at the “hers” sink. I looked over at the “his” sink, unused for months. One less thing to clean, I told
myself. Hardly consolation. It was the first Christmas my seven-year-old sons and I had celebrated without their dad, and I was miserable.
I thought I’d arranged it so that everything would be okay, so I wouldn’t dissolve in tears. I’d be strong, even though my husband had left me only six months earlier. This year would be a chance to do things differently. Ever since our twins, Brennan and Breckan, were born, my ex had declared that
Christmas Day would be for just the four of us to celebrate together. He didn’t want any interlopers.
Not this year. I’d invited my parents to spend the night on Christmas Eve so they could wake up with us on Christmas morning. They’d see firsthand the boys’
excitement at tumbling out of bed and glimpsing all the presents under the tree.
I’d even gone to the mall to help the boys find presents for their dad. I wasn’t exactly brimming over with the spirit of giving, but I
was determined to be a good sport. For their sake. At the jewelry store, when Brennan picked out a black and silver man’s bracelet, I cringed at the price but said...READ MORE
