It was a cold day in December, a few years ago. I was saying good-bye to the kids and leaving to the hospital for a major surgery.
Trying to get rid of the tension from the air, I asked Little Monkey, then 5 years-old: “Hey, darling. What do you want for Christmas?”
He looked at me in my eyes, “I want mommy home for Christmas.”
Smoke came up in my eyes right away, and I saw his eyes turned red, too.
“I was asking if you want any gift for Christmas.” I tried to get myself together, smiled.
“What I want is mommy home for Christmas.”
I will, son. I will. I am sure I will be home for Christmas. I am sure I will be home for YOU.
