I documented everything for him. I filled my phone with videos of Lily singing, laughing, spinning in circles, and telling stories that made no sense. I did not know when he would see them, but I kept recording.
I wanted him to know his daughter.
More than that, I wanted her to remember him.
When I finally received confirmation that Marcus’ unit was coming home, I read the message three times before I believed it.
Then I sat down on the kitchen floor and cried so hard that Lily found me there.
“Mommy, are you hurt?” she asked, dropping beside me.
I pulled her into my arms.
“No,” I said, laughing through my tears. “Daddy is coming home.”
Her eyes widened.
“Today?”
“Soon.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, but very soon.”
She jumped to her feet and began shouting, “Daddy’s coming home! Daddy’s coming home!”
For the next several days, she talked about nothing else.
She drew pictures for him, practiced what she wanted to say, and asked whether he would still know her favorite cereal. She decided that he needed a welcome sign, then rejected three versions before settling on one covered in crooked hearts, stars, and bright red letters.
“WELCOME HOME, DADDY.”
On the morning his unit was scheduled to arrive, Lily woke before sunrise.
“Is it time?” she asked from the doorway of my bedroom.
I looked at the clock.
“It’s barely 5 a.m.”
“Is that yes?”
I laughed for what felt like the first time in months.
“It’s a very early no.”
She refused to go back to sleep.
By the time we left for the airport, she was practically vibrating with excitement in her bright yellow dress. She held the handmade welcome sign against her chest and asked every few minutes whether we were almost there.
I was excited too, but beneath that excitement was a nervousness I could not explain.
Two years was a long time.
People changed.
Marcus had left as my husband, Lily’s father, and the man who always drank coffee too late at night. I wondered what would be left of that man after everything he had seen.
When we entered the military arrival terminal, families were already gathered around the barrier. Children sat on shoulders. Parents held flowers. Spouses checked the arrival board again and again.
Lily tugged on my hand.
“Will Daddy see my dress?”
