“One April day...I’ll turn to you and I'll say, 'I’ve always loved you in my way...'”
That’s what Christmases should be made of -- memories of Aprils and words, wrapped up in paper and placed under a tree, little mementos of what has gone before, giving back to what we’ve been given, staking hopes on promises made and kept in days past. Planting stones to remember us by, taking time to smile and see what we have always had, sipping joy from hands we trust. Looking up at the end of the day, not saying good-bye because no one is leaving.
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