People are fragile things.
They are so very breakable.
I imagine you understand this all too well.
I imagine you know what it means to be so broken, perhaps today more than ever.
More than almost any other day, today reminds you of your fractures.
Today all of the bruises and the scars come to the surface.
You are homeless on this Christmas Eve.
Not that you don’t have a family and a place where they can be found tonight, where there are sweet smells and warm rooms and joyful sounds.
You do. It’s just that you are not welcome there—or not as you are.
For you there will be no call, no invitation, no lingering embrace, no tearful reunion.
There will be no sharing of treasured past memories or making of new ones today.
You are the involuntary prodigal, a reluctant outsider.
Distance is the sole gift you have been given.
That story is true, but it is not the only
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