It was evening.
Dad hadn't come home yet.
“When will he be here?” asked Selenga.
"He'll be late,“ said her mom. ”But he'll come."
Selenga sat by the window.
The Wait
Cars passed outside.
Each time a car came, Selenga looked. Was it him? Could it be?
No.
Just another car. Just another person.
Selenga waited.
A Dream
While waiting, she imagined.
Dad would open the door. She'd hear his voice first. "I'm home!" he'd say. Then he'd take off his shoes. Leave them in the hallway. Go to the kitchen. "What's for dinner?" he'd ask.
And then Selenga would run. She'd hug him.
Dad would pick her up. Lift her high in the air. To make Selenga laugh.
Patience
A car passed. Not him.
Another car passed. Not him.
Selenga's eyes grew heavy. Her head rested against the window.
And then...
A sound. The door.
"I'm home!"
Selenga woke up. She ran.
Dad was there. Tired but smiling. Taking off his shoes.
Selenga hugged him. She wrapped her arms around his waist because she wasn't quite tall enough to reach higher.
“Did you wait for me?”
“Yes.”
"I'm sorry I was late."
“I know. But you came.”
Every Night
“Will you come home every night?” asked Selenga.
“As much as I can.”
"But sometimes you'll be late?"
“Sometimes.”
"Then I'll wait."
"You don't have to wait every night."
“But what if we want to?”
Her dad lifted Selenga up. High in the air. Selenga laughed.
“Then of course,” said her dad. "I want you to know I'm coming home to you."
A Note for Parents
Read this story not for the parent who comes home late, but for the child who waits. It teaches the beauty of patience and the value of coming home. When the door opens, give that hug—that's where the story truly ends.