My dad can’t help it.  He has to, it’s part of his job.  Sure he could get a different job, but I can’t see having my dad home every night.  Don’t get me wrong, I would love to see my dad every night, I just know it won’t happen, so I try not to get my hopes up.  Despite him being gone weeks at a time, he and I have a pretty tight relationship.  It’s not like one of those forced ones, it just comes naturally. 

Anyway, my dad has been in Vienna, Austria the whole week and he is finally coming back tonight.  I didn’t get to talk to him much because of the six hour time difference.  He landed in Chicago, practically his second home, about two hours ago and should be home any minute.  Normally when he’s gone it’s for about four days, then back for three, then gone again for four.  But lately, he’s been gone more, and more.

I turned on the news to find out who Isis killed today, and how many people have ebola now.  My parents don’t like listening to the news, they think it only reminds us how terrible the world can be.  But I like the news, it shows life in it’s simplest form.  It shows that life isn’t fair and you can try to prevent things, try to change things, but sometimes life has other ideas, like breaking news.

“You need to turn this crap off.”  My mom says sharply.  I knew it was coming, but with my unpredictable mom, you never know exactly when.  The tension between us grew as I waited to reply.  I should just turn it off, but that would be giving in and I’m too stubborn to do that.

“You can’t control me.  I’m 13, I should be able to watch what I want.  And if I’m not allowed to, I’ll just have to do it behind your back,” I snap.  Reluctantly I shut off the news knowing I’ll have to wait till tomorrow when she’s working to watch it.

“Thank you.” She says through pursed lips.  I flash her a glare before turning and going upstairs to blast music.

The ground rumbles beneath my feet.  My room is over the garage and anytime the garage door opens the ground shakes.  Dad’s home.  I walk downstairs, taking my time, not as excited as I was before to see him.

The door creaks as my dad pushes his luggage through the door.  He plops them down on the floor and I walk towards him.  I wrap my arms around his bulging belly, my hands, unable to reach each other across his back.  He kisses me on the top of my head as I offer to help with the rest of his bags.  He already knows my ulterior motives; to look for presents.  He always brings back gifts from the trips that are longer than five days. I guess gifts for him is his way of making up for all the memories that he missed.  He denies my request to secretly snoop, so I run upstairs to grab the speakers for the iPod.

I blast Ed Sheeran music as my mom flashes me a glare, her eyes telling me to turn it down.  I ignore her and look over at my dad grinning.  He’s stomping his foot to the beat while messing up all the lyrics.  A laugh escapes me as I realize that these are the moments I long for.  Having the family together, laughing, dancing and attempting to sing.

I try to enjoy the time that I do have with my dad, but there’s always the lingering thought that in a few days, he’ll be gone for another week.  It’s hard to enjoy something when you know it’s going to be gone the next day.  But that’s life.

You don’t get to choose your family.  You won’t have a perfect family or a perfect life because it doesn’t exist.  But there are moments in our lives that are perfect, and that makes all the other terrible moments worth it.