“Just So You Know, We’re Using Your House for Christmas,” My Daughter-in-Law Texted — She Never Asked

the Miradouro da Senhora do Monte, the highest viewpoint, where red roofs and church spires spread out like a patchwork quilt down to the river. I listened to a man play fado guitar on a bench, his song full of longing even though I didn’t know the words.

I ducked into a small church I stumbled upon, drawn by the sound of voices singing inside. The continue reading …