Father sits on his usual recliner, a cigar in his mouth and his phone chained to his right hand, like always. I glance at his right wrist, seeing the same golden wristwatch mother had gotten him last Christmas. My sisters and I pile around his chair, as if it were a throne; we wait for his starting fire, giving us permission to open the presents that pile before us.

We pile on our worn out couch, chewing our nails as we impatiently watch the door. He's going to be here any second now, the constant our wasted by telling our younger siblings about our father can finally come to an end. He's finally coming home,dad's finally finished working.

He flicks his cigar upward, signalling off our starter flag. We attack our presents viciously; phones, game consoles, tablets, etc. Same as every year, and every year we expect it. The other thing we expect, is for dad to leave about. Right on time, he stands to his feet, rubbing our heads as a farewell.

The locks "jiggle", making us all flinch with happiness. A large frame comes through the open doorway, presents piled in his arms. Mom screams with joy at his presence, jumping into his now empty arms. We surround our missed father, glad.that his constant working can take a brief moment for us.

Mother kneels in front of the kitchen island, her head resting against her shaking arms. Her lips tremble as fast droplets stroll down her face. Her red lipstick smears across her mouth, her mascara running like a black river. All drowned down by a glass of red wine, that hugs her right hand. An old wedding picture in her left.

A smile has been engraved on my face for hours. I turn back to mom and dad, they whisper things into each others ear, making them both giggle. Father catches my stare, waving his hand at me. I slowly approach them, sitting beside the old recliner he plants on. He gives me a big smile as he pulls out a cigar, "Merry Christmas kid." dad croaks, he pulls out his right hand, him glancing at a beautiful golden watch.