Jackson
38
Letter
Jackson,
I need to know if Kevin got his zip-line installed. You can’t leave me hanging on a cliffhanger like that. Mail can take up to two weeks to get out here, so by the time you read this, Kevin’s zip-line has probably been hit by the storm. Let me know the verdict.
Your hotel coffee can’t possibly be worse than what we have here. Ours comes in a giant green plastic jug, looks like crude oil, and I’m pretty sure it’s corrosive. Brody uses it to strip the grease off truck engines. I still drink three cups a day because sleeping is a luxury we don’t really get right now.
When I can’t sleep, I don’t do push-ups. My joints hurt too much for that. I usually just go sit on the hood of one of the flatbeds near the flight line. There’s no light pollution out here in the middle of nowhere, so the stars are blinding. It’s the onlyquiet time I get. I lie back, look up at the sky, and read your letters in my head.
I find myself wondering if you’re looking at the same stars from whatever hotel window you’re staring out of. It makes the ocean between us feel a little bit smaller.
Splash
39
Letters
Splash,
I went to Target today to buy laundry detergent and left with a giant plush dinosaur, three boxes of cereal I haven’t eaten since I was ten, and zero laundry detergent. Someone needs to revoke my adult privileges immediately.
The cereal section reminded me of how much of a disaster I was as a kid. When I was seven, I tried to convince my mom that I could predict the future by reading the alphabet shapes in my Lucky Charms. I told her the marshmallows were telling me we were going to get a dog. We didn’t. I was just a weird kid who wanted a golden retriever.
Did you have a favorite childhood cereal, or were you one of those intensely disciplined kids who ate oatmeal and woke up at 5:00 AM? Tell me a random story from when you were little.I want to know everything about the kid who grew up to be the soldier drawing ducks in my margins.
These cookies are oatmeal raisin from a spot in Chicago. Don’t roll your eyes—they actually taste like cinnamon roll heaven.
Always,
Jackson
40
Letters
Jackson,
You went into Target for laundry soap and came out with a plush dinosaur. I’m starting to think you need a handler, Jackson. Though I can’t really judge—Brody once went to the commissary for toothpaste and came back with three jars of hot sauce and a giant inflatable pool float.
I wasn’t a disciplined kid. I didn’t eat oatmeal at 5:00 AM. I was obsessed with Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I used to eat it out of the box while watching Saturday morning cartoons in my pajamas. So when I opened this box and smelled the cinnamon roll oatmeal cookies, it smelled exactly like being eight years old again. Before everything got complicated. Before the world expected me to be a soldier.
You asked about the ducks at the bottom of my pages. I guess I owe you that story.
When I was little, my grandpa used to take me to this frozen pond down the road from his cabin. The ducks would always stay near the edge where the ice melted. I used to sit on an upside-down bucket for hours, sketching them in a little spiral notebook while he fished. It was the only time my brain ever went quiet. I started doodling them in my notebooks in high school whenever I felt overwhelmed, and it just stuck. Out here, when the dust storms hit or the deployment gets too heavy, I draw a duck. It’s my way of reminding myself that there is a quiet pond waiting for me somewhere when this is all over.
You said you just want to be seen, Jackson. I see you. I see the kind, beautiful soul in every single line you write. Don’t ever think people only want you for a lifestyle. The guy behind the jersey is the only one I care about.
Splash
41
Letter
Splash,
