Excerpts from “What Christmas Is as We Grow Older”
By Charles Dickens
Time was, with most of us, when Christmas Day encircling all our limited World like a magic ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek; bound together all our home enjoyments, affections, and hopes; grouped everything and every one around the Christmas fire; and made the little picture shining in our bright young eyes, complete.
Here’s the thing about life in New York City: Sometimes it’s a little lonely. It’s exciting to live in a place with so many people, and so much to do, but it’s easy to feel lost in the crowd. People don’t always talk about it, but it’s there—and it’s hard to deal with without a great support network. So on Thanksgiving, the perfect time to reflect on the things in our lives we’re grateful for, I want to say thank you to all the people I’m lucky enough to have in my life.
I call the part of the state where I grew up “Western New York” because NYC natives call the whole state upstate and might think I mean Westchester. Also I just like Western New York better. If you drive fifteen minutes out of our suburb you start spotting farm markets all over. The area is full of them, which made this weekend—and every October weekend I’ve been at home ever—fun, and more importantly, delicious.