Christmas is what you make of it, not what it is

Perhaps, that Christmas isn’t marked in heaven, shouldn’t be a tragedy.

I can’t remember a memorable Christmas. The memories appear similar. The food, the lights, the carol, the harmattan sweeping through the streets. So what else is there to hold on to, especially if one doesn’t believe in virgin births and a magical man garbed in red bearing gifts? It feels hollow, like an empty well that has no bottom. It was Shakespeare…