I Was Uninvited From Christmas by the Man Living in My House

hands on the patio rail and stared at my mother’s dirt patch of a yard, at the plastic nativity she put out every year missing the same shepherd.

“She thinks you judge us.”

I almost laughed.

“Michael.”

“I know. I know how that sounds.”

He was nodding to himself now, a bad sign.

“She says you sit there and smirk. That you act like you’re above all of it. continue reading …