For 25 Christmases, The Same Silent Stranger Appeared Outside Our House At Exactly The Same Time. He Never Spoke, Never Left A Note, And Every Year My Parents Called The Police In Panic. When I Turned 15, I Finally Stepped Outside And Asked, “Why Do You Keep Coming Back?” He Looked Straight At Me… And Burst Into Tears.

people. My father, Richard Anderson, was an accountant, steady and reliable, the kind of man who wore the same style of khaki pants every day of his life. My mother, Patricia, was a homemaker who later became a real estate agent. They lived in the same house in suburban Connecticut for forty years, attended the same church every Sunday, had the same continue reading …