None of it was perfect, but it was real. And that, Isla thought as she watched her sister laugh at Greg’s worst cracker joke yet (What did the Christmas tree say to the bauble? Quit hanging around!) was exactly how Christmas should be. Not a performance of perfection, but a celebration of survival. Of family. Of love that endures even when the power goes out and the masks fall away. Perfect, in its own wonderfully imperfect way.
