After months away, I thought surprising my family on Christmas Eve would be perfect.
Instead, I found my sons huddled in our car, claiming their mother was “busy with some man” inside.
As my mind raced with dark possibilities, I knew our quiet Christmas reunion was about to turn disastrous.
The windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the snow as I guided my car down our neighborhood street.
After three months of endless business trips, I was finally heading home on Christmas Eve.
The dashboard clock read 7:43 p.m. — perfect timing to surprise Sarah and the boys.
“Just wait till they see what’s in the trunk,” I muttered, thinking about the pile of carefully wrapped presents I’d collected during my travels.
Three months was a long time to be away, but I’d ensured each gift was special enough to help make up for my absence.
The model rocket kit for Tommy, the art supplies for Jake’s budding interest in painting, and the vintage jewelry box I’d found for Sarah in that tiny antique shop in Boston.
As I turned onto our street, the Christmas lights from neighboring houses cast colorful shadows across the fresh snow. Our house stood out immediately; Sarah had outdone herself this year with the decorations.
Streams of white icicle lights draped from the eaves, and illuminated reindeer “grazed” on our front lawn.
But something seemed off.
The garage door was slightly open, maybe eight inches off the ground, letting out a thin strip of light.
“That’s weird,” I said to myself, frowning.
Sarah was always meticulous about security, especially when I was away. She’d triple-check the doors and windows before bed, a habit that had reassured me during my extended absences.
I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.
That’s when I noticed Sarah’s car was there, and two small shapes were bundled up in the backseat. My heart dropped as I recognized Tommy and Jake, bundled up in their winter coats, sitting perfectly still.
I jumped out of my car, my dress shoes crunching in the fresh snow as I rushed over.
Tommy, my nine-year-old, saw me first and his eyes went wide.
“Dad!” he whispered loudly, rolling down the window. “You’re not supposed to be home yet!”
“What are you two doing out here?” I demanded, looking between them and the house. “It’s freezing!”
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