You Still Believe In Father Christmas?

I woke up early that morning and went down to make myself a cup of tea before Charlie woke up.
I stepped off the bottom step just as the mail was pushed through the slot, I would have left it had I not seen the small rectangular card that sat on top: a postcard. My heart skipped a beat as I picked it up and flipped it over.
My eyes scanned over the words and I found myself leaning against the front door for support as my legs gave way and I dropped to the floor in a fit of hysterical tears.
Of happiness.
For the first time in a long time, I was crying because I was so happy.
My dear Harry would be coming home...

11th November, 1918

To My Dearest Madeline and My Boy Charlie,

Finally the day comes when I may write home in ecstasy for the war has ended and I will be home with you as soon as time permits! I hope to be home by Christmas but I am unsure as to whether that will be possible yet.

All my love always and forever,

Harry

*I don't claim to know a lot about the war, so if you do and you spot an inaccuracy then I apologise, please just enjoy the cute little Christmas story for what it is...
•• Thank you to @ontheedge for setting this challenge

1. The Story

2. Author's Note