Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(9)
Now, the clink of the weight bar into the supports should have indicated I was ready to get up, but instead I continued to lie back, staring at the tent ceiling. I can’t save them all. I knew that, but those words didn’t help when one died. Closing my eyes for a moment I felt as though the weight was lying on my chest.
Hitting the shower thirty minutes later, I let the warm water sluice over my tired muscles, washing away the sweat. I’d almost completed twelve years in the Army and while I had at one time contemplated doing my twenty years before getting out, I knew this was my last tour. I loved my job and I loved my crew…but I was ready for a change. But the next step was still a mystery.
The weather was finally pleasant this time of year. The cold of winter had left and the heat of summer had yet to appear. For once, I could close my eyes and almost pretend I was back in the States. But then sucking in a deep breath, I knew I wasn’t. The smells of our camp in Afghanistan, especially the infamous Poo Pond, immediately brought back to mind exactly where I was. And it wasn’t home.
Stopping at the MWR again before I went back to my tent, I walked over to the computers to check my email. Finding one from my sister, I laughed at the pictures of my two nephews. At two and five, they were all boys and into everything related to trucks or dinosaurs. I need to order some books for them.
I sometimes wondered if I would meet someone special, settle down, and have children. God knows I’d like to, but since I’d been in the Army it was tough meeting women that interested me. Pulling myself from those thoughts, I clicked through more emails.
Next, I read one from my mom, where she talked all about the kids she taught. A long-time kindergarten teacher, she still found the antics of five-year-olds to be hilarious. She added a few anecdotes from my dad, making me smile. A familiar pang in my heart tugged as I sent a short note back, missing home more and more.
A few online bills needed to be taken care of and then I cleaned out my spam folder. A reply email was in the spam and I recognized it as the librarian who had sent the books. Curious, I clicked on it.
Dear SGT Molina,
I was excited to receive your email and discover that the books came in such good condition. I was especially happy to hear that you liked the book as well. I love mysteries and it is nice to meet someone who likes them too. I’m not a librarian but have started taking some college classes. I think that I would like to be a librarian some day so that might be what I end up studying. But for now, it’s math, science, and English that I have to get through. I was a decent student in high school, but that was a few years ago.
Have you read any of the books by Andrew Taylor? I love his British mystery series. In fact, I think he has written 2 different series, but I have only read the first one. I am sending a new box but I know they don’t go straight to you. I really hope you are able to get some of them. Have you always loved reading? I always remember having a book in my hand when I was little.
I can’t imagine what your life must be like over there, and I suppose you get tired of people saying “Thank you for your service,” but I really do. I admire anyone who can be so courageous. I have to get off now because the internet is so expensive. Take care.
Happy reading,
Molly
Grinning, I re-read the email, realizing Molly was much younger than I had initially thought. I figured she was a grandmother! I was curious about the author she mentioned and did an internet search, discovering he was a well-known British mystery writer. Wondering if Molly would be able to send me one, I decided to ask her about it when I wrote back. That thought surprised me for an instant…I wasn’t exactly the pen-pal type. But having not found anyone here with as great a love of mysteries, it would be nice to talk to someone with that interest. And working in a library, Molly would be the perfect person to ask about new authors.
Clicking off my email, I headed over to the stack of books, seeing which ones appeared new to me. Finding just a few, I checked them out and headed back to my tent.
Just as I settled down on my bunk, Todd came charging in. “Molina? Going to the barbecue tonight?”
Knowing I had a shift coming up, I replied, “When does it start? I may not have time.”
“Yeah, you will. It starts in about an hour and you can eat before duty.”
Tossing my book to the side, my stomach won the battle over my reading and I headed out with more of our crew. Getting in line for the meat roasted over the grill, I grabbed a paper plate and loaded up on the food. The temperature had risen and was about as nice as it would get in Afghanistan. Finding a place to sit, we piled up in the sunshine and chowed down on the barbecue. Looking around, I was struck once more with how most of us hung out with the same people that were in our occupation specialty. I know for my friends, we all understood the stress and needs of a MEDEVAC medic. I supposed most soldiers felt that way.
Outside with the camaraderie, laughter, and good food, it was easy to imagine us sitting stateside at a bar or on the beach somewhere. Somehow with stars overhead it was easy to pretend that I wasn’t in a warzone on the other side of the world.
Looking at my watch, I stood and tossed my trash into the large cans provided and with a wave to the others, headed toward the airfield in time for my shift to begin.
Two days later, I sat back down at the computer and tried to think of what to say to Molly. Jesus, this is harder than I thought it would be. Oh hell, it’s not like I’m trying to impress the girl! Letting out a long breath, I began to type.