The phone rang while I was setting the table for dinner.
It was a Tuesday in December, three days before Christmas. The house smelled like roasted chicken and vanilla candles. Wrapping paper overflowed from a box in the corner, and the kids were arguing in the living room about which present they were sure was theirs.
“I’m leaving now,” Ethan said. His voice was tired but warm, the way it always sounded after a long day. “I’m just stopping at the store real quick. The kids won’t stop talking about that gift.”
I smiled, pressing the phone to my ear. “They’re not going to riot if it shows up under the tree tomorrow.” Continue reading…
