Tonight at dinner, my husband lifted his glass, smiled at me and said, “Here’s to forgiveness.”

I swallowed hard.

Remembered that it’s Christmastime.

Tried to find it.

Couldn’t.

Here’s what happened earlier today.

A package that I had been waiting for had still not been delivered.

A present for my daughter. For Christmas.

I went online and followed the tracking number. Only to find that it had been delivered days ago.

To the wrong house. Our old address.

The online store had reverted to our previous address when it processed the order. An honest mistake, I suppose, in the frenzy of the season.

Drove to the old house. No packages delivered here they said.

But here’s the thing.

I had the confirmation that the packages had been delivered.

One on Thursday. Another on Saturday.

My name clearly marked on each label.

The Grinch had shown his greedy face this Christmas in a place where more than enough lives.

Someone stole something they didn’t need, for no apparent reason.

And as I struggled to understand why, I was struck by an awful realization – that maybe someone in that house has an emptiness inside that can only be filled by taking something that belongs to someone else.

My anger vanished.

Tomorrow night we’ll open a few fewer presents in our house. But it will be enough.