The Stocking
I have pulled it out of the red and green-topped box each year since my divorce. The sole stocking left among my divorce residue – a reminder of my divided family. It is the stocking purchased when the dream of my future family was thriving. I bought four stockings together, perhaps foolishly, during the pregnancy of my first daughter. I was hopeful from the beginning she would have a sibling. The first Christmas after she was born, I had the stockings monogrammed “Mom,” “Dad,” and “Anna.” I left the last blank until the time came that eventually our Sophia would
