A beautiful Christmas card from the future (or not, as it turned out) mother-in-law. Another one of those that fill me with a kind of regret. Regret for disappointing this very nice woman. There is an angel on the cover. She invites me for Christmas. I remember that Christmas. Not very well, actually, but I do remember being there, feeling a little lost among his family, not understanding that they all seemed to like me, that very fact making me nervous. Feeliing, as always, too skinny and unprepared for anything. I didn't know how to help out in the kitchen, for instance. I don't remember avoiding it, but I know I must have because I still do. I can finally function just fine in my own kitchen, but I'm all thumbs in anyone else's. I'm not a pitcher inner. My father interpreted that as lazy. So I am certain that they would have thought me lazy. In my mind, they would have, should have, thought me lazy. Because lazy people don't help out in the kitchen.

"You are welcome anytime. Come and stay as long as you like. I bet your folks have lots of plans for you too. But we will be happy to have you." My folks would have had plans, but not necessarily revolving around me. Even Larry noticed that, eventually. He couldn't understand it. He even wrote them a letter after I broke off the engagement, chiding them for doing nothing more when I left for college than decide who would get my room.

I remember bits and pieces of that Christmas. I remember getting up in the morning (from my separate bed) and going to Larry's room to cuddle with him for awhile. No sex. But cuddling. And I remember a liquor called Galliano. It was in a very tall bottle, beautiful bottle. I had never seen anything like it before. My parents were teetotalers. I don't drink the stuff, but now, whenever I see a bottle of Galliano, I remember that Christmas.