Last Christmas, I offered our home to a family whose house had burned down. We went to my parents’ house for the week, leaving the house ready for them, with gifts under the tree and holiday treats.When we returned, something felt wrong. The house was eerily quiet and too neat. Under the tree was a large red box wrapped in gold ribbon. Inside were several unsettlingly realistic masks—zombie, gorilla, and dragon—along with a note. The family explained that their kids had found ,

and damaged our old Halloween costumes in the attic and had replaced them as an apology.Though I felt uneasy, I tried to brush it off. But when Arthur and Ella found the masks, they were excited. “These are way cooler!” Arthur said, holding up a zombie mask. They saw it as an upgrade, and soon they were laughing, ready to play a game of “monster hide-and-seek.” I realized, watching them, that Christmas wasn’t about everything being perfect—it was about finding joy in unexpected places.Mom! The zombie’s coming to get you!” Arthur shouted.I laughed, feeling a weight lift. It was a strange gift, but it had brought a little holiday magic after all.