Another Tuesday, another chance to get to know each other. Today’s conversation is about memories and how they shaped you.

It’s so weird, being full of memories. Of having traditions for years that your young self never saw changing. Your older self saw the signs, like the times an aunt would kneel down for something she dropped and she would claim a quick prayer simply because she needed a few minutes to get back up and didn’t ask for help. The years we were mostly adults ourselves, managing other people’s medicals. The “Write names bigger, we need readers to see now” or how half my time for the holidays became remembering the giant shopping list and going over every every part of the meal because oops we forgot the filling jams. On Christmas Eve, while the remaining aunts cook, I have always wrapped gifts for whoever needed it. In the past I remember wrapping in a separate room and my mom making a fuss because the kitchen was so crowded that opening the fridge without thought would often clunk her in the head, followed by the apology of whichever sister did it that time. As I got older, and my mom had her stroke, the pre-holdiay drive was a lot of Elvis, holiday music, giving her her own little Christmas radio in her corner of the kitchen, and still checking on her so that she didn’t get herself all wound up and angry. Because reminding her to say moo-saw (her remembered version of woo sa) was so much better than wondering if it was another Christmas someone might be in the hospital (but released by dinner time). And now, 5 years later without her? I miss that. The music on the way up, the “Oh sorry, didn’t I say I was opening the door?” Instead of hearing the apologies for that, I hear my name for a bit of help now. Still the same traditions to make memories over, they just changed shape and size. At one point, we sat at an extended table 21 people wide with a go to the bathroom before you sit down because no one can get up rule. Now? This Christmas is looking to be 14. That’s still a lot, but it’s like a whole branch of the family tree just broke off and we never get them back. So we end up talking about them much more, how much they are missed, what they did that indicated that last Christmas could be their last holiday too… That’s what I mean about bittersweet. You have new memories made while retelling the old ones.

As I leave you today, I share something personal, that I usually don’t. It’s not the Christmas apron sisters photo I was asked to take back in the day with one of those new fangled digital cameras (to which I don’t know which old computer or CD would have this picture) but it is the sisters. The four pillars of the family who are sadly cut in half. But this? This was from the youngest’s 40th birthday. It makes me reflect more, as she asked me what we have to celebrate in 2026 that could use parties and nice clothes (last minute Christmas gift talk lol) and it’s going to be me. In the summer of 2026 I will be 40, and I recall being at the party in this picture, probably also being a photo I took for them. Those sort of full circle moments with big number anniversaries and stuff really compound the best and worst memories of your life. And the good memories are still great. The bad ones just have enough to compete now. So to you all, may the better memories win the day and tip your scales this year.