The ball game was coming down to its final seconds and Tennessee had just lost a game-long lead to Arkansas with less than a minute to go. A knock came at the front door and I haltingly answered it, looking back at the TV as I did so.
There stood a 30-something, pretty woman with a smidge of a scowl on her face. “Can I help you, ma’am,” I said, more rhetorically than authentically. “I’m your daughter,” said the woman.
I looked at her again as she stood at the door. There was a hint of recognition. Then she smile. “Oh, shit!,” I said. “Jennie.” I opened the door and reached for her, giving her a warm hug (she was wearing short sleeves, so she probably needed the warmth).
The 30-something woman is actually 50 and it has been several years since I have seen her. She lives in North Georgia and neither of us is big on road trips. This was–coming as it did–my best Christmas present of 2017. But, lord, what a surprise.