I was five and Sarah was three when he first left. Neither of us understood what was actually happening; we were both too young. All we were told was that daddy was going to be a hero protecting us. My daddy was a big man. He was always there when I had a bad dream. I remember one time when I was playing on the swing. I fell off and scraped my knee. My daddy rushed over, scooped me up in his arms and calmed me down. When I was calm he placed a bandaid on it and kissed my forehead. He was a hero, and he was mine.

Each day passed, another one without him. I would walk past my mommy’s room late at night and hear her crying. One night I grabbed the doorknob and turned it slowly. I popped my head in just a little. Mommy was sitting on the bed holding a photo album. I knew she was looking at old pictures of daddy and her. Lifting her head up ever so slightly, she noticed me standing in the doorway. I stood there silently with my arms at my sides tugging on my nightgown. She motioned me inside, and I ran and jumped onto the big high bed like I always did. The instant I was on the bed she cradled me in her arms. I looked up at her glistening blue eyes and asked her what was wrong. She brushed my hair back behind my ears softly.

“I miss your father sweetheart” she said to me.

Wrapping my arms around her neck, I gave her a big hug.

“Me too,” I whispered in her ear.

She kissed my forehead. I slept in her room that night. I didn’t want Mommy to be alone. Before we drifted off into a deep sleep, Mommy reassured me that Daddy would be safely home soon.

That year several things happened without my Daddy’s presence. Sarah lost her first tooth and had her first ballet recital. She was not very good, but I knew my father would be proud. There came a time when other girls stopped asking me why I didn’t attend the Daddy-Daughter dances at our school. They knew the answer already. It had almost been two years since I had last seen my father. Four hundred and two days to be exact, but who was counting? We continued to try and explain to Sarah where daddy was. She was still too little to understand. Daddy was supposed to be home in one month. The days could not seem to go slower. All I wanted was for him to be home.

My seventh birthday was two weeks before Daddys plane was to arrive. To me, my birthday did not matter; I just wanted my daddy home. It had been my wish since the day he left for him to come home safely. It was what my mommy always told Sarah and I to wish for. My birthday had arrived, and I was having a Tangled themed birthday party. The backyard was set up with streamers and tables full of food. My friends and I were running around, zig zagging between the adults. My mom told all the kids it was time for cake and a mob of seven year olds ran for the door. Pulling myself up on the chair, I looked down the long table of kids surrounding me. The lights started to dim as my mommy walked out with my cake. She placed it in front of me, and a chorus of “Happy Birthday” filled the room.

The song came to an end as the moment to blow out the candles came closer. I knew what my wish was; it had not changed. I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath and blew as hard as I could. I slowly opened my eyes, and I could not believe what I saw. At the end of the table was a tall, dark-haired, big man, my dad. Tears started to roll down my face as I sprinted towards him with my arms wide open. I held on tight and swore I would never let go. He widened his embrace to welcome Sarah and Mommy. We held each other tightly, wishing this moment would never end. We all had tears in our eyes. My wish had finally come true, and that year I got the best gift of all. I got my daddy, my hero, home safely.