25th Dec

″Merry Christmas, Rafaél.″

He grinned, ear to ear, as I placed the gift in his lap. Ma had knitted him a sweater. I made him a scrapbook, filled with polaroids of our week together, with space for more – our New Year′s road trip to New York ought to fill out several pages. He beamed, celestial features glimmering beneath the Christmas Lights.

″Merry Christmas, Nikhil,″ he replied, placing a present in front of me. I unfurled the ribbon on the small box, lifting its lid to find a silver necklace nestled inside; inside its pendant, an old photograph of Pa cradling me as a toddler. How could a person I′d known less than a week gift me the greatest gift of all?