Ah, Christmas. The time of memories. Of family. Of precious tokens of love.
Remember that time a few years ago when I was working for Taco Bell? Remember how at Christmas they have a tiny tree on the counter that everyone brings an ornament for? Remember how I wanted to bring one with my name on it, so I brought my very favorite one, a faded pink ball that my great-grandmother had hand-painted my name on when I was born? How on Christmas Eve, after the work party, I was closing the store with my manager and decided to take down my ornament to keep it safe in my car, and how at that moment it slipped from my hands, and I was bitterly crying before it even hit the ground because there was nothing I could do? Do you remember me crying in the Taco Bell bathroom on Christmas Eve for a quarter of an hour over a shattered piece of glass, while my manager swept up the shards?