I'll Wait for Dad

I”LL WAIT FOR DAD

by:Bikerider

Non-fiction, written from my wife’s point of view, as she related what had happened prior to my arrival home that Christmas morning.



Seeing my son’s excitement as he watched for his father’s car to turn onto our street, I marveled at his resolve. At only five years old he was already displaying signs of being the thoughtful, loving, and caring man he would become. As I watched him studying the gifts under the tree, I asked him if he would like to begin opening his presents.

“You know,” I told him, “You can open one gift now if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” he said, while his brown eyes scanned the brightly wrapped gifts that Santa left sometime during the night.

“Are you sure,” I asked. “There are a lot of gifts under the tree.”

“That’s okay, I’ll wait for dad,” he replied. He walked quickly back to the front window, parting the wood slats he watched the road in front of our house as he bounced with anticipation. Walking back toward the kitchen he hesitated in front of the tree as he looked from package to package.

“Dad won’t mind,” I said from the kitchen door, “Even if you opened all of them.” I watched his eyes dart to the wall to check the slowly moving clock.

“I know,” he said with a loud sigh. “But I’ll wait for dad.” I watched as his excitement bubbled over, his eyes made a continuous circuit from the clock, to the gifts, then back to the front window again.

“Why don’t you and I sit down together? We’ll open one of yours and one of mine.” I sat near the tree and grabbed a gift. Holding it up I read the name on the tag.

“Look, this one’s for you,” I read his name. “To Jeff, from Santa.” He took a deep breath and held the gift. Putting it back under the tree, he looked up at me and said.

“No, that’s okay, dad will be home soon.” His eyes went back to the clock, and then he turned to me and said.

“I’ll wait for dad.” I watched as he walked to the front window again, his eyes scanned the street like a young sentry.



My husband was a police officer, and it was his first Christmas after getting the job he worked so hard to qualify for. It was a tradition on the police department that the newer officers worked twelve-hour shifts during Christmas week so the more veteran officers could be off for the holidays. My husband was torn about participating in the tradition, but he wanted to fit in. Before going to work on Christmas Eve, he told my son to open his presents in the morning.

“It’ll be Christmas when you wake up,” he said. “You don’t have to wait for me.” Then he left to begin his shift at midnight

In the morning I found my son sitting on his heels under the tree reading the tags to see who would receive which gift. When he read his name he paused and held the box, no doubt wondering what was under the colorful gift wrap. As I made coffee I watched him get up and walk to the front window and look for my husband’s car, even though he had looked only moments before. I’m sure it was excitement that drove his small footsteps. It seemed like no matter what excuse I gave him to open at least one present, his response was always the same.

“I’ll wait for dad. It won’t be Christmas if dad’s not here.”

My husband’s voice echoed through the house as he closed the door behind him.

“Hey…Merry Christmas, everybody.” Taking off his duty belt, he hung it on the top shelf of the hall closet, then turned and saw all the presents under the tree.

“What’s going on,” he asked as he headed for the coffee pot. “Is everybody okay?” My son had gone to shower and dress and now he came bounding into the kitchen, his excitement in full view.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” he said as they hugged, my husband on one knee.

“Merry Christmas, Jeff,” he said, as a broad smile crossed his face.

“How come none of the presents are opened?” Looking into the living room, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Jeff wanted to wait,” I told him. “He said he didn’t mind.”

“Well, I’m home now, so let’s get started.” My son took his father’s hand and led him to the tree where they both sat on the floor and pulled gifts from the pile of colorful boxes. There were lots of presents for everyone. My husband got the camera he had stared at for months, and I got the pearl necklace I had been hoping for. My son received most of the things he had listed in his letter to Santa. He was in heaven as each present filled him with more and more excitement.



When all the gifts had been opened and inspected, the coffee and egg nog finished, we all sat quietly half submerged in bright, colorful wrapping paper, my husbands eyes were beginning to droop.

“Well…did you get everything you wanted, Jeff?” he asked with a sleepy voice.

“Yeah, it was a great Christmas,” he said, as he inspected his new Star Wars Millennium Falcon.

“You know, Jeff,” my husband said, “You didn’t have to wait for me, you could have opened your gifts before I got home.”

“I told him that,” I interrupted, “But he insisted on waiting for you.” My husband put his arm around my son and gave him a squeeze.

“Thank you for waiting, Jeff,” he said. Looking up at him my son said.

“I wanted to wait for you, dad,” then smiled, “It wouldn’t be Christmas without you.” My husbands eyes welled with tears as he hugged his son and said, “You made this a very special Christmas, Jeff.”

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Word Count 1013