A dear friend

This will be the second Christmas since my very dear friend died. She always loved and looked forward to Christmas, and I was always treated to a running account of the thirty-stone turkey they managed to cram into the oven. I' on the other hand, was the ghost of Christmas past. She invited me so many times to spend Christmas with them, but I always got cold feet. I thought that my dislike for the season would spoil everyone else's enjoyment. Also I dread all the fuss, and find it completely overwhelming. I liked to take her some crystallised ginger (sometimes covered in plain chocolate) when I saw her, but that's about as close as I could get to it all. She used to worry terribly about me being on my own for the day, but eventually realised that I felt comfortable like that. Dear Nina. I still miss her.