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“Daddy, why do you have to leave?”

Vic looks over at our three-year-old daughter, Mia, smiling sadly. We’re sitting in the airport, waiting to see him off, and she’s bouncing up and down in her seat between the two of us. “It’s for work, sweetie,” he says to her.

She pouts. “I don’t like work.”

"I don’t either," Vic agrees, "but without it we wouldn’t have a nice house or all your toys or anything like that."

Mia makes a noise of frustration. I snort. “Same.”

"When will you be back?" she asks.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It all depends. I’m hoping to get back by Christmas, but…”

At that moment, his flight is called, and he sighs. “Guess I’d better go.” He stands up and turns to Mia. “Hey, give me a hug?”

Mia stands up, too, and Vic kneels down, letting her throw her arms around him. She bursts into tears, and he rubs her back, looking like he’s about to cry, too. “Shhh, hey, it’s okay,” he says soothingly. “It’s only for a little while.” He nods at me. “And you’ll still have Daddy.”

"But I want both daddies.”

"Don’t worry, I’ll be back," he assures her.

"Mia, come here, Daddy has to go," I say, softly pulling her away and wrapping my arms around her.

Vic kisses me on the cheek. “I love you.”

"I love you, too," I reply, trying not to tear up myself.

With that, Vic waves at us and walks away, onto his flight. “Only a couple of weeks,” I sigh, holding Mia in my arms and rubbing her back as she gradually slows down. “This business trip’ll only be a couple of weeks…”

—

"Mia, do you want to go see Santa?"

"Yes!" She jumps up and down, grabbing my hand and pulling it as we walk through the mall. "Let’s go see Santa, Daddy!"

At the very center of the mall, a Christmas-themed display has been set up, with a man dressed up as Santa sitting in a large chair in the middle. The line isn’t too long, thankfully, but it doesn’t matter; Mia would’ve made us wait to see Santa if the line went all the way from here to Mexico. Her enthusiasm really inspires me, actually; as I get older, Christmas seems to excite me less and less, but she makes up for it. It’s kind of cheesy, but I can’t help it—adopting a child with Vic was one of the best decisions of my life.

The meeting with Santa is a short one, but Mia loves it anyways. As we’re walking away, I ask her, “So, what did you ask Santa for this year?”

She looks up at me, and then she says something that nearly breaks my heart: “I asked for Daddy to be home on Christmas.”

I simply smile at her, trying to think of a response when she adds, “A pony would be nice, too.”

—

Vic and I text each other and video chat almost every day, and it’s nice, but I want him here. He goes on these business trips often, and I should be used to it by now, but I’m not. Our bed still feels too big with just me in it. It’s not enough to hold his pillow against me and breathe in his sweet scent. It’s not even enough to Skype with him until I fall asleep. There’s nothing that can replace the feeling of my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around my waist, his soft breathing in my ear, making me feel safe and secure and home. I live for those moments.

Vic tells me that he hopes to be back by the 23rd, but then some things come up, and he ends up having to stay longer. Now it’s the evening of the 23rd, shortly after I put Mia to bed, and I’m sitting out in the living room, staring longingly at our Christmas tree as Vic and I video chat.

"Do you think you’ll be home for Christmas?" I ask sadly. Right now, the chances of that seem slim.

He shrugs, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know, baby. It all depends on how tomorrow goes. It’ll be really chaotic, too, trying to get a last-minute flight on Christmas Eve. I just don’t know.”

I sigh. “Mia says she asked Santa to make you come home for Christmas.”

He laughs a little; I can see a spark in his eyes at the mention of our daughter. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Santa’s that powerful.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you kidding? Santa’s magical. He can do anything.”

He smiles, some of the tension seeming to fade. “Well, let’s hope he can get this one right.”

—

It’s sometime in the late afternoon of December 24 when Vic calls me with the news: He’s got a flight home scheduled for tonight.

I’m pretty sure the noise I make is inhuman. “Mia!” I call, turning to Mia, who has been playing with her dollhouse in the living room.

Mia looks up. “What?”

"Daddy says he’s coming home for Christmas tonight!" I say, my voice going three octaves higher than it normally is.

Mia jumps up and claps her hands. “Yay!”

The rest of the day, there’s a much lighter, more cheerful air in the house. That doesn’t last for long, though, because a few hours after his first call, Vic calls us again and tells us that there’s a problem: An incoming blizzard has delayed his flight.

I turn on the TV and flip between the news and the weather channel, and sure enough, there are reports of a blizzard sweeping across America and canceling flights everywhere…on Christmas Eve. Of course.

I don’t want to tell Mia this bad news, but I also don’t want to lead her on only for Vic to not show up tomorrow. So I tell her, reluctantly, adding that there’s still a possibility that he’ll be able to make it. Even she seems to know that this isn’t a very likely possibility, though.

"Maybe Santa will give him a ride here in his sleigh," she theorizes after we hang up.

I laugh a little. “I sure hope so.”

The loneliness is amplified tonight. Tomorrow is Christmas, and as cheesy as it sounds, all I really want is for our family to be able to spend it together. I just want Vic here, but apparently, that’s too much to ask for.

There are no messages from Vic when I wake up the next morning (well, more like “when Mia forcefully wakes me up the next morning before the sun has even risen”). Mia is still enthusiastic, though, because it’s Christmas, and I can’t help but be happy, too.

It’s just as she’s reaching for her first present under the tree that I hear it: the sound of someone turning a key in our front door. Vic and I are the only people with keys to that door.

"I’m here! Am I late? The lights are on, so I know you’re up. Merry Christmas!"

Mia squeals and makes a run for it at the sound of Vic’s cheerful voice, and I’m close behind, feeling as if my heart has swelled to three times its size like the Grinch or something. Vic picks Mia up and spins her around, laughing. I can see the bags under his eyes, but the fact that he probably hasn’t gotten much sleep doesn’t seem to deter him.

"I didn’t think I would make it," he says. "That was crazy. But it doesn’t matter. I’m here now. We’re a happy family."

"See?" I say, trying to cover up how genuinely happy I am with humor. "I told you! Santa can do anything!”

Vic grins and sets Mia down, then wraps his arms around me in a hug that is definitely going on my list of Top 5 Hugs. “Merry Christmas, Kells,” he says, kissing me softly on the lips.

I kiss him back, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go. “Merry Christmas,” I reply. I rest my head on his shoulder, ignoring Mia’s impatient tugging on my pant leg for just one perfect moment. This is what home feels like. This is what family feels like. This is what love feels like.