Chapter 2: The Decision
I did not cry.
I did not yell.
I simply decided.
On the morning of December 22, I sat at my kitchen table with a cup of tea and made a list.
First, I called the grocery store and canceled the large order I had placed for Christmas dinner.
Then I called the bakery and canceled the pies.
I wrote a short note and left it on the dining table.
Dear family,
I love you all. But this year, I need a Christmas that belongs to me.
I will be back after the holidays.
Love, Mom/Grandma
I packed a suitcase with warm clothes, a good book, and the small bottle of perfume my late husband had given me years ago. I put it in the trunk of my car along with a blanket and a thermos of coffee.
I looked around my decorated house one last time.
The tree was lit.
The stockings were hung.
The presents for the grandchildren were wrapped and waiting under the tree.
I turned off the lights, locked the front door, and drove away.
The decision was not made in anger.
It was made in exhaustion.
And in love — for myself, finally.
As I drove toward the coast, the radio played Christmas songs I had heard a thousand times.
May you like
This year, they sounded different.
They sounded like freedom.
