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December 8, 2020
Dec 24: There's a house in my memory, a bungalow with large rooms, a quaint bathroom, and a Christmas tree all-year round standing on a platform by the bathroom door. The fairy lights do not twinkle, and each time you go to the bathroom you catch a whiff of tinsel and, strangely, powder and rose. I've associated these smells with Christmas since I was around 7 years old. This house is gone now, and in its place is a soulless building with people I hardly recognize. We still see each other regularly, but in my childhood they seemed warmer.