Christmas lights of green, red, orange, and yellow on the house next door. A blow-up Santa on a sled in the front yard. A green wreath with bells on it. Baby Jesus lies in a manger with Mary, Joseph, and wise men. Snow-covered straw.

A moving truck was in their driveway two months ago. A cop car with lights on parked across the street. His pickup was gone. She held her child’s hand as the movers loaded toys, beds, tables, clothes, kitchen items, and chairs. A fake tree stood in the window untouched.

He was never around. At night, his truck was there, and in the morning, it was always gone. He’d leave when the sky was still dark and the sun was just peaking through clouds. Cold mornings with frozen windows and heavy exhaust. The whole neighborhood could hear him scraping the windshield. Driver’s door slammed shut.

Used to watch her load the baby up in her car at lunchtime during the week. Other than that, the small blonde was a ghost. My wife took a watermelon over to them when they first moved in. She said thanks and immediately shut the door. Only time she ever said a word.

Her car was parked in the driveway this morning. So was his truck. The blow-up Santa was deflated. Baby Jesus was missing.