2025/Mila-33150

It was one week before Thanksgiving, when my third-grade teacher decided to do a fun activity for class. We made paper leaf cutouts that had writing about what we were thankful for. Then we taped the cut outs onto the tree. My dad was deployed during this time and had been gone for over seven months. It was also about to be my birthday. On my thanksgiving paper leaf, I wrote that I was thankful for my dad because he sacrifices himself for our country and to earn money for my family. Later that day, my teacher announced that the news would come and watch us place the leaves on the paper tree. I was a little confused, but mostly excited. One by one, my classmates summarized what they were thankful for and put their leaves on the tree. When it was my turn, I said that I was thankful for my dad. I placed the leaf onto the tree, turning in time to hear my classmates whispering my name. They were looking at the door, so I directed my attention over to the door, and I noticed that my dad was standing in the doorway. I realized then that the television cameras and crew were not there to watch my class put leaves on the tree; instead, they were here to broadcast my dad’s coming home just in time for my birthday. The camera trails off at the end as my family and I walk out of the school.