Christmas Story

Both of them shared mixed feelings about the tree. Nowhere near as big or as full as they’d hoped. Even spending more than they should have. She wanted to weep at the meager clump of toys under it, the cheapest she could get from the Tupperware catalog a coworker passed around on break.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, night shift starting soon. They clung together hard to make up for the brevity of it. “See you in the morning.”

In the tiny bedroom, “Silent Night” leaked out of the tinny radio. She sat on the secondhand bed and pulled the bassinet close. She pushed the blanket’s corner away from the baby’s lips.

“Oh well,” she thought, “At nine months he won’t know if it’s a good Christmas or not.”

And then it came to her: their real gift had come much earlier. And was right there sleeping in front of her.