I resisted this for years -- Christmas isn't about the gifts, I told myself.
However, when I try to remember Christmases past, I find I have little memory of what I received. I tend to write the lists of what I intend to give in my notebooks, so, with a bit of digging, I can find those, but what did I get? With a few rare exceptions -- usually the occasional fulfillment of childhood or adolescent longing, I've forgotten what was presented to me.
The gifts we receive are little snapshots of who we were, or thought we were -- or who other people thought we were.
This year, I seem to be a music-lover with an interest in social history and marital law, living in a cold climate.
A chilly genealogist.
Sounds about right.
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