I Let a Mother and Her Baby Stay in My House 2 Days Before Christmas — Then Christmas Morning a Box Arrived with My Name on It

Wrap gifts.
Hide stocking stuffers.
Remember to move the stupid elf.

My girls were at my mom’s house.

They’d had hot cocoa, sugar cookies, and too many holiday movies.

In my mind, I pictured them asleep in flannel pajamas, cheeks pink, mouths slack with sleep.

Warm. Safe.

I felt a wave of gratitude—and then the familiar thought: I still have to wrap everything when I get home.

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