Chapter 1 - The Uninvited
Fifteen years. That’s how long I’d been invisible to my own family every Christmas. Not a single invitation, not a phone call, not even a text. I’d find out the same way every year—scrolling Instagram late at night, seeing the photos pop up like a punch to the chest: cousins in matching red plaid pajamas, my aunts clinking wine glasses, my parents standing in front of a tree so tall it brushed the ceiling. The caption was always the same kind of cruel: So grateful to have the WHOLE family together this year!
Whole. As if I didn’t exist.
When I’d ask, Mom would sigh like I was being unreasonable. “Oh, honey, we just assumed you were busy with work.” Dad would pat my arm and tell me not to make Christmas about hurt feelings. My sister Lauren would roll her eyes and say, “Let’s be real, Nora—you always bring weird energy. It’s better when it’s just… easy.”
So I stopped asking. I spent those Decembers alone: in tiny apartments with tiny trees, in break rooms at the hospital where I worked, once even curled up in my car outside a diner when my heat went out, too proud to call anyone. The only person who never forgot me was Grandma Ruth. Every Christmas morning, the phone would ring, and her voice would wrap around me like a wool shawl. “Saved you a slice of pecan pie, honey. It’s got your name on it.”
May you like
She was the only one who saw me. And then in October, she was gone.
The calls started before her funeral was even over. Not to say I’m sorry. Not to ask How are you holding up?. Just: About the beach house… Ruth would want us all to have it, right? They remembered my name the moment there was something worth taking.
