You and your Mom filled in the parts of the day that your Dad had taken up. Months passed without him coming home. Eventually he stopped calling every night, you heard from him once a week.
He missed a lot during that time. You turned five. Your dog, Wolf-Man, disappeared and was found after about a week of looking.
Every night you and your mom checked all the salt lines and said your prayers together, then she would check your closet for monsters. You'd ask her the same question night after night, right after she had tucked the quilt in tight around you, when your dad was coming home. Her answer was the same each time; he'd be home as soon as he can be. This didn't really answer your question, but after awhile you learned to settle for it.
It was after your bath one night, you'd gone upstairs to pick out what book you wanted your mom to read, and you waited on your bed for her. You waited for what seemed liked forever on her.
You finally gave up on being patient and went downstairs to look for her.
When you reached the kitchen it wasn't just your mom you found. Your dad was there too.
Neither of them noticed you until you had your arms wrapped around his legs, and they both stopped talking to look down at you.
"Hey kiddo." Your dad stooped to pick you up.
"Hey." You said back with a smile so big it hurt your cheeks. Clinging to his neck you breathed in, smelling him and his old leather coat. He was crushing you to him, and that was okay with you.
It was okay that he missed your fifth birthday party. It was not important that he hadn't been there to help look for your dog when it went missing for a week. It didn't matter that he hadn't been there to check your closet for monsters when you were scared. What mattered was that he had come back. He was home again.
That night you got to stay up extra late, and you filled him in detail for detail on what he'd missed while he'd been away. So what if you'd already told him most of it over the phone? He still listened like it was the first time he heard it.
When you could barely hold your eyes open, much less keep your head up, he took you up to your bed where he tucked you in. The last thing you remember was seeing him check the salt line at your window.
The next morning excitement woke you up early. The house was still quiet so you crept quietly into your parent's bedroom. You were going to get in bed with them and sleep the rest of the morning with them.
Problem was, it was just your mom in bed.
The blow was crushing when you realized what that meant, and you couldn't seem to hold back anything. Tears poured out, hot and messy. The sobs were so forceful on your little body, you could barely breath.
Your mom woke up to the noise you were creating. Understanding colored her features immediately. Holding her arms out to you she moved to hold you.
She didn't tell you that everything was fine; to calm down, that dad would be back. She only rocked you while you cried. You didn't understand why he had gone, you just knew he was, and that he'd left you behind again.
Sometimes you think this is when you should have realized that he wasn't the man you thought he was. But you were five, and your dad was still your hero, and Santa was still real.
