**A Gift Beyond Measure**
I came home from work in high spirits today. Instead of hanging up my coat like usual, I called out the moment I stepped inside:
“Darling, I’m home!”
But silence greeted me, cooling my excitement. I peeked into the kitchen—and stiffened. Evelyn sat by the window, chin resting on her palms, her face drawn and eyes red-rimmed.
“Evie… what’s wrong?” I moved closer, easing myself onto the chair beside her.
“Mum dropped by,” she muttered bitterly. “Same old digs, same talk about money. Says I’m slovenly, that we live ‘like we’re in a dump’… And why are *you* so cheerful?”
I hesitated, then grinned. “Because I’ve got a surprise for you. You need to see it yourself. Wait here!”
I stepped out and returned moments later with a bulky duffel bag.
“What’s this?”
“Open it. See for yourself.”
With a reluctant sigh, Evelyn unzipped it—and froze. The bag was stuffed to the brim with cash.
“Where on earth did this come from?”
“Grandad showed up at my office today. Said he wanted to give us a fresh start—his life savings, so we could have our own home. I tried refusing, but he insisted. Told me I’m his only grandson.”
Evelyn burst into tears.
“I’ve been so tired… and then you bring *this*… Thank you. Thank him for me.”
We held each other tight. That evening, sprawled on the sofa, we debated neighbourhoods, furniture shops, and decor. Happiness felt just within reach—one step away.
The housewarming was modest but heartfelt. Family came, including Evelyn’s mum. True to form, she appraised the place the second she walked in, declared the kitchen “not half posh enough,” and thrust a “gift” at us—their old dining set.
“We’ll give you our furniture. Nearly new. For the lounge and bedroom,” she announced proudly.
Evelyn clenched her jaw. “Mum… we’ve already ordered new pieces.”
“Well, you could’ve *said*! Now what do we do with ours? You always ruin everything! And don’t forget about that coat!”
“The gift’s ready. But it’s not a coat.”
Offended, she left without a word.
We decided to ring in the New Year just the two of us. Or rather, the *three* of us—days before, we’d learned Evelyn was pregnant. Grandad was the first we told.
The old man’s eyes welled up when he heard he’d soon be a great-grandad. “Thought I might not live to see the day… Thank you, both of you. This is the finest gift.”
And in that moment—amidst the hush of winter, the scent of pine and tangerines, an old man’s tears, and the warmth swelling in my chest—I realised something. No snide remarks, no hand-me-down dressers, no parental lectures mattered. Because right here was my family. My home. My joy.
*Lesson learned: Blessings come in their own time, and often, they fit just right.*
