When my daughter compared our gingerbread home to the “secret house Daddy takes me to every weekend,” I laughed it off until she mentioned a pretty lady with candy. A few days later, I found myself following my husband, although I’d never been a suspicious type of woman.
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I’m a surgeon with hours that can only be described as absurd. I do love my job. Saving lives is my calling, but sometimes my career asks too much of me. Too much of my time. I felt like I was missing every milestone with my family.
A female surgeon | Source: Midjourney
My husband, Mark, was the glue that held us together. He worked from home and took care of Emma, our six-year-old firecracker who never seemed to run out of energy or things to say.
Last year, on a day around mid-December, I made a rare escape from the hospital and promised myself the evening belonged to Emma. She had been asking to decorate a gingerbread house for weeks.
I couldn’t say no.
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A woman with a box | Source: Midjourney
My daughter was extremely excited when I got home early and unearthed the gingerbread house kit from the pantry.
“Mommy, can we make it really pretty? With gumdrops and frosting and sprinkles and cookies?” she asked, jumping in place as I started putting the contents of the box on the counter.
“Of course, sweetheart. We’ll use every candy in the house and more if we have to,” I replied, ruffling her hair.
Soon, Emma’s giggles filled the kitchen while we spread frosting over the gingerbread walls and stuck gumdrops in neat little rows. For a second, I felt guilty, like I could be saving someone at that moment.
