My Mother’s Quiet Christmas Tradition—and the Truth I Learned After She Was Gone
For most families, Christmas traditions are loud, photogenic, and easy to explain. Ours was neither.
Every Christmas Eve, my mom cooked a full holiday dinner in our small apartment. The kind that made the whole place smell like warmth and safety—ham when she could afford it, buttery mashed potatoes, green beans with bacon, and cornbread wrapped carefully in foil.
She packed it separately, gently, like it mattered more than the rest.