'If that little beggar isn't asleep yet – ' I think as I tiredly creep up the stairs once more. I know it's Christmas Eve, and he's so excited waiting for Santa to come. But "Santa" has been waiting to get started on assembling that bike for three hours now, while Charlie has been peeking around the stair rail every few minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of the Jolly Old Elf. Of course, I don't want to ruin the fun by getting caught working on "Santa's" project, so I've been waiting until I'm sure he's asleep. to start.
I make it to his door, not hearing anything, and there he is, all curled up in his bed, half under the covers, still holding on to a flashlight. Little SF in the making, there. He will have to work on his sneaking, I think with a grin. That squeaky board at the top of the steps gives him away every time. Now I can get to work.
But instead, I stay there, transfixed by the sight of my young son, sleeping peacefully in his bed. I stand cross-armed, leaning against the doorway. How long has it been? This is his sixth Christmas, and only the second I've been home to see. I don't move; feel like I'm hardly breathing. I love this child, and feel like I've missed so much of his growing up already.
I don't know how long I've tarried, when I'm aware of Sarah coming up behind me. She wraps her arms around me, rests her head on my shoulder, and enjoys the view, too. I respond by wrapping my arms around hers. How great is this? I feel the warmth of her body, smell the scent of her hair, feel the love wrap around us. For once, I tell her.
"This is great," I murmur.
"Yeah," she whispers back, and we stand there together, watching our son sleep. After a while she speaks again. "You know, Jack – you could stay. You don't have to keep doing this. There are other things you'd be just as good at doing."
And I know what she means: my job. And it is oh, so tempting right at this moment. My service to the Air Force has sent me all over the world, and Special Ops has meant a lot of no-warning quick deployments, some of which ended up months in duration. TDY's that extended, and extended again. More often than not, my overseas assignments have been unaccompanied. A plus in some ways for Charlie – he hasn't had to change schools very often, as most military brats do. And Sarah is right – I sometimes think about being here to coach Charlie's Little League. I could do that. And maybe teach, high school or college, and be a baseball or hockey coach. I've enjoyed the few times I've been able to volunteer at his school. But, bottom line, no. I'm right where I should be, doing what I should be doing. Maybe what I was born to do.
"It's for moments like this that I stay in the Air Force," I find myself saying, and I pull her closer to me. "So Charlie, and other kids, can sleep in peace tonight. There's a lot of bad in the world, and I just want to keep you safe from it."
Sarah returns my hug, and I hear a sniffle, and she wipes at her face. I know she's afraid for me. I pull her around in front of me, and just look at her face-to-face, letting my eyes say what I cannot, and embrace her tightly against me.
-End
Dedicated to service men and women who can't be home this season.
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