Flashbacks of happier holidays

Hot Flashes

MEMORY—Dad’s Christmas vest. Courtesy photoAbout 42 years ago, I became a cheerleader. No, not the kind with pom-poms and long, lithe legs. For when it comes to cartwheels, you’d better call 911 first. No, I wasn’t that kind of cheerleader, nor did I realize at the time what I had become. Because marriage and a young stepdaughter vaulted me into a new role that I slid into like home plate—a little messy but with good intentions.
In my heart I was ready to take the field; I knew I could make a li...

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