A turkey gets her Christmas wish

When I was in fourth grade, I remember our teacher would make us create letters asking Santa what we wanted for Christmas.

As most kids would groan and talk about the various toys they wanted for the holiday, I would always treat my letters with heavy consideration. There was only one thing I ever wanted as a kid and that was to see my dad for Christmas.

My dad had joined the Army as an air traffic controller. My mom said he joined about four years after I was born; since signing up, my dad had missed nearly every holiday, birthday and school event due to deployments.

Now you may be thinking there had to be some time in which my dad was home. But the reality of the situation is that I would see him once a year, because he would be stationed at multiple locations as we stayed in Florida.

At the age of 9, I never resented my parents for making this career decision but the jealousy of watching kids being with their dads for the holidays always stuck with me.

I would spend the entire day detailing my Santa letter in glitter and not-so-great color combinations. Every year we were given this assignment I would ask for the same thing: "Can my dad come home?"

As a kid I would get frustrated that Santa would never reply or that my request would never be fulfilled.

That day in fourth grade ended like any other day; it was the last day of school before the holiday break. Kids were cheering and laughing about their plans for the holiday. Each one of them bragged about how they found the presents their parents hid.

One by one, each one of them got picked up by their parents. I remember watching them with a pit in my stomach as they would hug their fathers. I wanted what they had and I felt guilty for not being more understanding.

My dad was fighting to keep this country safe. He was a hero. He was my hero. So why couldn't I just respect that his mission came first? Why did I always write a letter to Santa asking for a miracle?

It's because I missed him and I wanted for us to be the happy family you saw in Christmas movies.

When it was just me and my twin sister Brittany at the parent pick-up loop, I figured it would be the repeat of every year where my mom picks us up and we would go home to make fudge for the holidays.

But when my mom's car rolled up, a man came out of the passenger side. My heart immediately skipped a beat and tears began to roll.

With a big warm smile on his face and his arms outstretched to us, I couldn't believe who was standing in front of us. His words still ring in my head as I recount this memory:

"Merry Christmas, my turkey lurkies," my dad said.

Despite the awful nickname he gave us, me and my sister ran as fast we could into his arms. We spent the remaining holiday break with our parents with big smiles.

I think I ended up getting a Barbie tea set that Christmas, I said thank you and ended up playing with it. But I knew that wasn't my real present. My real present was my dad.