and even my husband, Zach, had one.
And my son’s gift?
Skye’s gift was wrapped in a grocery bag. It was folded twice and taped shut. There was no bow, no tag — just a black Sharpie scribble:
“To Skye.
Enjoy.”
The “e” was smudged.
I spotted it the moment we walked in. It sat near the back of the tree skirt, half-tucked beneath the armchair, as if it had landed there by accident. It was easy to miss…
unless you were looking.
Continue reading…
