“Momma! Momma! Momma!” I feel my little girl jumping up and down on the bed next to me as I slowly open my eyes and smile.

“Is it time to wake up now, princess?” I sit up and wrap my arms around her, giving her a big hug.

“Yes! I hungey.” Her statement is punctuated by her tummy beginning to rumble.

“Alright, guess it is time to feed the monster.” I give her tummy a small tickle before we both hop out of bed and head toward the kitchen. “Livie, go get dressed while I make breakfast. Okay?”

“Yup, yup! I be Ba’man today!” she shouts before scurrying off toward her room. That is one thing I can say she got from me, her love for all things Batman.

It doesn’t take long to get to the kitchen. I open the fridge and pull out what I need to make pancakes. They are Olivia’s favorite, and we rarely have a chance to have them with my schedule. Before I can even finish the first pancake, Livie comes skidding into the kitchen in her patented Batman outfit. Her hair is a rat’s nest, but she’s all smiles with her mask settled on top of her head. Batman T-shirt and rainbow-colored tutu. I can’t help but laugh as I pour her some juice.

“Have a seat little one, breakfast is almost finished, then you are going to Mrs. Gonzales’ today while I find you a new place to play when Momma is at work.”

“’Ore kids Momma?” she says as she climbs up into her seat.

I sigh. I wish that there were more children around for her to play with and just be her age, but I had to take what I could get apartment wise. Living in California is not cheap.

“I know, Livie. I promise to find a place with lots of kids for you to play with.”

I turn back to the griddle and finish making breakfast. I can’t help but wonder if I am going to be able to find a place that will both fit my crazy schedule and Olivia’s desire to be around more kids her age. Maybe it’s time to move back with my parents? No, I need to be my own person, and Livie needs to know that we are both just fine without Trent around.

Having finally finished the pancakes, I make Olivia and I plates, and have a seat at the table. As usual, she inhales her breakfast and then runs off to watch cartoons while I clean up. Instead of going directly to do the dishes, I decided that now is as good of a time as any to write my first letter.

Heading over to the small bulletin board by our phone, I pull the address and name I was given off. Lieutenant Justin McMillion, forty years old. Navy SEAL. I can’t imagine what being a Navy SEAL is like, but I know Trent always said the best thing was hearing his name called during mail call. So, I hope that even this small gesture can brighten his day.

I grab a pen and paper from the drawer, heading back to the table to hopefully make Lieutenant McMillion’s day.

It’s just another day over here, sitting and waiting for something interesting to happen. It has been about a month since we got here, and I still haven’t heard anything from the pen pal services I signed up for. I’m guessing that I must be a little too boring for someone to write a letter to.

No matter, keeping these knuckleheads in line and out of trouble is a full-time job when we are on a mission. Just as I am about to hop in my bunk, I hear the call for mail sound from the chow hall.

“Hey LT, aren’t you coming?” Cowboy asks as he hops off his bunk and heads in that direction.

“What’s the point? There ain’t nothing in there for me, besides there’s the makings of a sandstorm brewing out there. I don’t want to be caught in that,” I grumble as I lay back, placing my hands behind my head.

“Aww, no lady friends pinning after you, Old Man? More than enough of me to go around, I guess,” Hard-On responds as he claps Logan on the back before heading out of the bunkhouse.

“Maybe I need to call the girls and let them know about all the ladies writing you letters?” I hop off my bunk and follow them, it wouldn’t hurt just to see if maybe I got lucky and someone sent me something. There is always hope, right?

“Fuck you, LT! You know I am a one woman - I mean, two-woman kind of man.” Hard-On shouts over his shoulder. However, the panicked look on his face is priceless! I have never seen a man more in love with anyone than Charlie is with Avery and Amber. Who would have thought that it would take two women to tame that one?

Once we enter the Chow Hall, I notice Brass and head his way. It was a close call on whether he would be making this mission or not, with his motorcycle accident and all. I think in part of his new-found backbone and that stubborn-as-hell woman of his, he was pronounced fit for duty just in time.

“Hey Brass, waiting on something from that lady of yours?” I ask, taking the seat next to him.

“Don’t you mean his Mama?” Hard-On plops down on the other side of him, barely missing the right hook Brass throws his way.

“Layla always sends me something, never know what it is going to be. So, I’m here impatiently waiting just like the rest of you assholes,” he growls. I guess Hard-On is still giving him a hard time about his relationship with his girl. I don’t know much about what’s going on, but I do know it’s not the norm. As long as it isn’t illegal, he can do whatever the hell he wants.

Brass suddenly becomes fixated on the door. “Hey Newb, where’s my shit?”

The newest member of our team, Brady, is headed our way. Now that Brass has finally lost the title of Newb, he has taken to giving Brady here a hard time. I can’t say that I blame him, it is a rite of passage in the SEALs. Although it took him longer than most, he is a better SEAL and man for it.

“What shit are you talking about, Brass?” Newb responds.

“My laundry, you ass. Ain’t nobody got time to be doing their own laundry. That’s what we have you for.”

“Brass, last time I checked you had a Mama for that shit. I ain’t your Mama. Do your own fucking laundry,” Newb says before turning to head out. Guess seeing if he had any mail wasn’t that important.

“Damn! Now I know why you asses gave me such a hard time. That shit feels good as fuck!” Brass says, and we all begin to chuckle. Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see who it is. “Sorry to bother you sir, but there is a letter here for you.” I don’t even register who is speaking before I take the letter and rip it open. The pages smell like a warm spring day and are covered with elegant handwriting that can only come from a woman.

I can’t help but smile. Just this simple letter has changed my outlook on the day. I’m going to write her back, just to say thank you, of course. I’m not expecting anything to come of this, but just knowing that Becca took the time to write to me is enough. Maybe she will want to correspond further after this? This definitely gives me something to look forward to, which is a godsend out here.

I look up from my letter and notice I am alone in the chow hall. Those fuckers aren’t going to let me hear the end of it when I get back. Being in charge of a SEAL team doesn’t mean that I’m exempt from ribbing, sarcasm, and sass.

I head out and notice that my prediction was right, a sandstorm is coming in. Should be here in about ten to fifteen minutes. I need to get everything tightened down before it hits. Quickening my pace, I head to our bunk. Being deployed means I share my living space with my team, no special treatment for officers out here. We’re all just trying to survive.

I can hear the roar of the storm as it begins to get closer, and I break into a run, getting trapped outside in a sandstorm can turn deadly very quickly. I get to my door just as the storm breaks camp. I’m barely able to open the door enough to get inside. Who knows how long I’ll be stuck in here, I may as well write a letter to Becca.

“Cowboy, you have any paper? I need to write a letter,” I holler after securing the door.

“He lives! We thought you turned into a zombie there for a minute.” He shakes his head at me, turning back to the poker game him and the other guys are playing. “Didn’t know you knew how to write. Who is the special friend that got all your attention?”

“Of course, I know how to write a damn letter, I’ve had more schooling than you, and you seem to do it just fine. Do you have paper or not, smart ass?”

The guys start to chuckle, in most places you don’t get to talk back to superior officers without dire consequences. Since we’re currently just sitting around waiting out a storm, I’m just a guy hanging out with his work buddies.

Newb jumps up and starts digging through his stuff. With a triumphant yell, he holds up a notebook before handing it to me.

“Thanks,” I say while looking at Cowboy with a shit-eating grin.

“Stop brown nosing and sit your ass down,” Cowboy hollers at him, shaking his head in disdain.

Sitting on my bunk with my back against the wall, I grab a book to write on and get set to write my first letter in over a decade. Putting pen to paper feels surprisingly good. It brings back memories of writing notes in class.

“I hate these fucking sandstorms. Like we don’t already have sand in every single crevice, let’s sandblast it all too,” Hard-On grumbles as the boys play another hand of poker. The sand is one of the worst parts of being deployed here. It destroys everything. After six months here, we have to toss everything we brought with us. Uniforms are rough, the sand never comes out of the pockets, boots, or bags. The laundry machines can only do so much when they’re full of sand too. Electronics get sand in the cooling fans and charging ports, rendering them useless if you aren’t extremely careful.

“Quit your bitching, at least we aren’t out in it this time,” I reply, not taking my eyes off the paper. In my peripheral, I can see them all shiver. It was a rough three hours, pinned down between boulders while we tried to keep covered with camouflage tarps. All of us in awkward positions, fighting the fifty-mile-an-hour winds to keep the tarp as airtight as possible. We all ended up with sand burns, Newb had the worst of it on his face.

“What I wouldn’t give for a beer. I would pay a hundred bucks for a cold beer right now,” Cowboy says.

“I’m not bailing your ass out when you get caught with one.”

“I guess that goes for me too, huh?” Hard-On asks.

“You’re damn straight. Your dumb asses get caught with alcohol over here, you get to fend for yourselves. I’ll expect you back to work the next day. Use your training for once and get yourselves out of jail.”

Everyone chuckles, they all know I’m full of shit and would do everything in my power to get them back, even if their asses deserved it. Finishing up the letter to Becca, I seal the envelope and prepare to send it.