Aunt Louise holds a special place of honor on my Christmas card list this year.

She’s the last living aunt or uncle, for that matter — following the deaths of several family elders since the start of 2023. Aunt Lou is the Washington football franchise’s biggest fan, and the 96-year-old has the Commanders’ paraphernalia and knowledge of pigskin strategy to prove it.

We snail mail cards to the homes of 90 relatives, longtime friends and journalism colleagues annually, sometimes with updates on the expanding careers of our adult children. Email missives and impersonal text chains just won’t do the trick for The Boss and me. Mailing cards, even with the ever-rising costs of stamps, has been a pleasant, longstanding ritual for us.

The Christmas card list also represents an evolving microcosm of our lives and relationships.

Relatives and friends who are now widowed dot the lineup. We acknowledge the deceased by supporting those still living and adapting to loss.

In other spots, divorces mean we send out cards to different addresses where one previously sufficed.

Adult nieces and nephews — we have a bunch — now receive their own cards. Before, they were lumped in with their parents. How did one-time youngsters get so old, anyway?

We’ve become more respectful of folks who aren’t Christian, be they Jews, Muslims, from other faiths or no faith at all. They get cards touting “Happy Holidays” and notes wishing them well in the season. I’m far from offended by this inclusive practice.

Families with new children crop up on the list occasionally. That’s a rarity, though, since The Boss and I have attained AARP status.

So consider this my special card to all of you, even if it doesn’t arrive in your mailbox: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. May you have health, happiness and peace.