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For years, every Christmas Eve, my aunt Sondra’s home was a wonderland.
Guests for the family Christmas dinner party would walk through the front door and be greeted in the foyer by miniature ceramic Christmas villages, full tiny trees and tiny carolers, stretching across snowy tabletops.
Garland and ribbon danced up the banister.
A ledge over the front door held a rotating Christmas tree and a collection of Lazzie Bears, sold for years at the department store Lazarus.
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