When my 23-year marriage ended, I didn't want the holidays to turn into some kind of pity party. I knew even the slightest whiff of Christmas music would easily get me misty-eyed. I turn mushy inside when I hear Bing Crosby sing "White Christmas," and I worried that the romanticism of holiday lights would make me feel like the only one in the world who didn't have a honey to hug. … Back to Article
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