Proof The Bible Is True

This is a story about my dad, my daughter and a dream present. Literally.

 

That Christmas morning, I spotted Dad walking up our pathway, his little Santa hat bobbing up and down, his arms laden with gifts. My daughter, Megan, rushed to open the door. “Merry Christmas, Big Ralphie!” she exclaimed. She hadn’t seen him since she’d left for college that fall.

 

“You too, Little Ralphie!” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

 

My dad and Megan were as close as could be. Whenever she stayed over at Dad’s house, they’d get up before anyone else and chat over peanut butter on toast at the kitchen table. She even took up fishing to spend more time with him. That’s why we’d nicknamed her Little Ralphie. Dad joked that he’d always wanted a grandkid named after him.

 

Dad set his packages down by the tree. Megan’s bulky present stood out. I’d helped him wrap it and top it with a big candy-striped bow. I’d never seen him so excited about giving a gift before. Especially one that I knew Megan didn’t need.

 

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