Homecoming for the Holidays!

By: Nichole Schlais

When you hear the word homecoming, does it bring memories of fall, football and friends? For me it means walking through a hanger filled with spare parts, making my way towards the walls of posters and past a few chairs. I can’t sit down, no matter how long it may take, instead I head to the tarmac, making sure I keep my toes on the red line, just not crossing over it.

My eyes go back and forth between my watch and the sky. In my mind I recall the 3 postcards, 25 letters and over 75 emails I received. I smile at the 11 DVD’s sent through the USO of him reading countless books to the kids. I’ve waited 187 days, 6 hours and 14 minutes for this day (not that I was counting). Time is ticking by in what feels like hours, rather than seconds. I see the new babies, the husbands, wives and parents, who like me, would rather watch the sky than sit and wait.

Out of the corner of my eye I see it, my Christmas wish. I feel goose bumps as the hanger erupts into cheers and every free hand waves the Stars and Stripes. The plane lands and slowly taxi’s back to the waiting while it taxi’s back to the terminal. It seems to take forever, but when I step closer to the red line I can see it, just a few more minutes and it will be over, at least for a little while. The butterflies in my stomach are having a field day, we’ve had almost half a dozen of these in the last decade and yet I still get nervous every time.

As the plane rolls to a stop, the ground crew moves into action. Trucks for luggage and the ladder arrive. Then they all back away, including the ground crew. Are you kidding me??? Apparently the pilot was unsure of the parking job and wanted another crack at it. Note to pilot: Treat it like it was stolen, park it and let the hostages off! Once the plane is parked, blocks are laid, steps are moved in and the door opens. Now the hunt begins, the windows are useless at seeing where he is, so I must wait and hold my breath as each person deplanes. I just want to scream “HURRY UP” but instead I just move closer, the red line only really counts during take-off and landing, and as the door to the plane is opened, the family mob moves forward. New dads and mom deplane first and then the rest of the passengers, all clad in dessert camo. Nothing like searching for my hero, dressed like all the other hero’s. My eyes are scanning the ladder, the crowd, looking everywhere as I move closer to the plane.

Then we make eye contact and without actually flying I was in his arms in a matter of seconds. It took a few minutes to notice the roses he was carrying or remember that I had Heather there taking pictures. I just held him tight and let the tears flow. I pulled away to get another good look. He was thinner and his summer tan was still hanging around, but he was over 7,000 miles away and still remembered to bring me flowers. I hugged him again and know that I had the world’s largest grin on my face. We exchanged small talk, I introduced Heather and we waited for his luggage. I only let go of his hand long enough for him to get his bags.

187 days since I’d stood on this tarmac saying good-bye, 187 days since I’d seen his smile, 187 days since we’d had a face to face conversation. 187 days that I had to explain that daddy’s work is different from other daddy’s. 187 days between my kiss good-bye and my kiss hello.

This holiday I am thankful for my real life homecoming that beats anything that Hollywood could ever produce.