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.
