She didn’t take a breath before snapping, “I can’t believe you’d abandon your family like this!” I felt the old heat rise in my chest—the one I get when I’m treated like the family cruise director instead of a person—so I ended the call before I said something I couldn’t take back.

The next morning my aunt texted: “Your mom’s telling everyone you’re ruining Christmas on purpose.” I stared at the screen, annoyed and suddenly tired down to the bone. I hadn’t ruined anything. I was just asking to stop sprinting. Christmas isn’t supposed to feel like a second job.

I turned off my phone and took the kids to the park. The air was cold enough to see our breath, but the sun was kind. Nora tugged on my sleeve and asked