5:30 pm on Friday, December the 22nd means the start of my four-day weekend. I walk out of the office and see the Holiday tree in Rockefeller Center standing tall and bright. I breeze past the shoulders of many clueless tourists as I make my way down the snow-powered streets of Midtown Manhattan on my way to J Crew. They are promoting a big winter sale and I’m looking for some new quarter zips and khakis for business casual events. I’m also looking for some gifts for Amy’s family. Across from me in the checkout line, my analysts wave in my direction, “Have a wonderful break, Mr.Davies!” I offer a head nod.  

Dinner in Forest Hills at my in-laws is set at 7 pm. I hop on the subway and take the uptown E train to Forest Hills Station. Sitting in front of me is a father with his son lying asleep on his lap. Wrapped securely around the father’s legs are three colorful bags from Duncan's Toy Chest. I close my eyes for a second and think of my father. I wonder what he’s up to for Christmas. I haven’t seen or heard from him since I dropped out of college. He always told me to have faith and believe in God. I never listened and we always fought. I reminisce about the road trip to Cape Cod after my high school graduation. My Dad, my mom, and my sister were all in that tight Toyota Rav 4. Everyone was happy.

“This is Forest Hills–71st Avenue. Transfer is available to the E, F, and R trains.” I open my eyes and the father and son aren’t across from me anymore. I bounce off my seat and slip through the doors just before they shut. 

The air as I exit the station is icy and crisp. It’s filled with an electric sense of anticipation as people walk two times their stride to get to their loved ones. I adjust my cashmere scarf at the crosswalk and bright lights and harmonic music catch my attention. Crowds of families start to disperse from the church. Amidst the hustle and bustle, a voice echoes in my mind, “If you come in, he will come.” 

I push open the heavy wooden door, and the warmth of the church embraces me. There are still some people at the church having silent conversations. I tip-toe my way to an empty pew and kneel before God. 

“God, if you are there, I want you to bring my father back into my life.”

I bow my head, take a deep sigh, and continue,  “I’ve made many bad decisions in my life, especially with him. I want to get to know him again.”

I grip my hands together tight and stare at the image of Jesus being crucified on the cross, “I know that I don’t deserve it, but please give me another chance God.”

I roll up my sleeves and check my watch. It’s ten to seven. I better get going. I dip my fingers in holy water and sprinkle it on my head. I start walking in two times my stride.  

I feel a vibration in my pocket. It’s definitely from Amy asking where I am. I take my phone out, and the light from the screen illuminates my face. The call is from an unknown number. I pick up the call and three seconds of silence pass before a familiar voice starts to speak. 

“I’ve messed up my relationship with you. I’m sorry son.” 

I stop in my tracks and look back at the church. 

“Dad?”, I mumble. 

“I heard you. I went to church and prayed for you. I’m sorry for everything.”

I could hear him breathing loudly and blowing his nose in the background. 

“I love you son. Let’s find a time to catch up. Is that okay with you?”

“I would love that Dad,” I respond without hesitation.  

“Okay son, take care. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I slowly hang up the phone and look up at the stars in awe.