Three years ago, while my family was visiting us in Texas, my dad bought my sister a Christmas gift: a book. He gave it to my mom to hide it until Christmas
When they got back to Caracas, my mom hid it. But she hid it so well that she herself couldn’t find it. She looked all over the house for it, with no success.
Three years later, as she was looking for a photo frame, she finally found the book. It was in a plastic bag, buried deep in a cabinet meant for photo albums.
She thought about hiding it again until next Christmas, but she thought twice about it.