I remember like it was yesterday. Sitting around my grandparents’ dining room table, on a Christmas dinner food high, adorned with my 1980s big bangs and jelly bracelets, 12-year-old me eagerly awaiting the moment we all knew was coming.
As the currency-shaped envelopes were passed around the oval to the grateful recipients, each dreamed of just what they could do with the cash enclosed.
Clumsily and quickly, we glanced at the winter landscape printed on the front of this year’s bank envelope. Speedily, we zoomed through the sentiments scrawled by our grandmother, right next to a president’s face. Sneakily, we peeked at the envelope’s contents, to see just how much money was inside this year.