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 answered without checking the screen. “Hey.”
“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…