Every Christmas, people post photos of traditions that look like they belong in a catalog.
Matching pajamas. Perfect trees. Smiling families.
Ours never looked like that.
Every Christmas Eve, my mom cooked a special dinner.
The kind that made the whole apartment smell like home.
And every year, the most important plate wasn’t for us.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
