I got my first Christmas gift the other day: two golden delicious apples in a clear, plastic bag. I feel like I should memorialize them. But of course I have no idea how. Wax? Shellac? Wait til they shrivel and frame them? I sure as heck wasn’t expecting them. And I’m just as sure I’ll
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I’d noticed them back in the terminal—harried middle-aged dad and adorable, chubby, little toddler. And here they were next to me in the aisle. Shhhh. Stop! Look—here’s your bunny. Bun-ny, bun-ny, Daddy was saying in a hushed and panicked, sing-song voice, with baby wailing and doubled backward over his left arm. Enough! Daddy growled. I