This is a 'What If' story. This is a song I've known for a very long time, which I ADORE and I've always wanted to write a story for... but never had a situation to write it for. Now, I know what happens in Letters from Home... and I know what you all think of it. So, this is sort of my apology to you guys. Also, if you haven't read Letters from Home, I suggest reading that first for the sake of spoilers (there aren't that many in this, but if you happen to see reviews, you could be spoiled to what happens in reality). Anyway, I really love this song and it's sung by Lonestar and it's fantastic. I saw them live the other night and loved it, so here's a little story that sprouted from that.

Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

I travel here and everywhere
Following my job
I've seen the paintings from the air

Brushed by the hands of God
The mountains and the canyons reach from sea to shining sea
But I can't wait to get home to the woman he made for me

Cuz everywhere I'll ever go and everywhere I've been
Nothing takes my breath away like my front porch looking in

There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde shoes on wrong
Cuz she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl, holding both of them

Yeah the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in…

Afternoon out in the country on a beautiful day was like something out of a photograph, he realized as he drove down an old gravel road, the smell of wild roses filtering through the open windows of the vehicle he drove. He tapped his hand along the worn leather by the door, humming while he turned down a final road, seeing the brush of trees and bushes become thicker and the road narrow. He smiled at the almost hidden street sign, knowing in a few years it might not be visible at all.

He slowed at a turn, one that was a bit brutal if you weren't familiar with it, knowing just above that bend was what he looked forward to most on long days like these.

He could smell cookies from down the street and his stomach grumbled involuntarily, reminding him that he had missed lunch that day (it was probably still sitting on the counter in the kitchen, but knowing her, she probably put it away so it'd stay fresh). A bright red mail box jutted out from the driveway, the house number painted in white, the contents of whatever was delivered that day probably inside already. He pulled in, spitting gravel all over and killed the engine, rolling up the windows quickly as he tried to gather everything he needed to bring inside.

Beautiful lilies and roses greeted him first, then the front door slammed shut, and he saw a young carrot top with a sippy cup bolting down the steps, while clumsy, making it there in about five seconds flat. "Daddy!" she shrieked, missing two teeth—oddly the front ones—throwing her arms into the air, a demand that he's been gone too long and she wanted attention—now. She was like her mother and he knew better than to ignore her.

"Hello my beautiful," he cooed into her ear, making her giggle as her arms wrapped around his neck and he kissed her forehead. "And how was your day?"

"Mommy and me make chocolate chip cookies! And—" she was cut off by the door slamming again—he meant to grease that—and two other people standing on the porch near the door. A wild haired redhead, shaking her head at the sight of the two before her, held a little blond boy in her arms, his body moving like crazy—he never wanted to sit still, he was like his father.

"Daddy!" came the tiny voice, the words still so unfamiliar to hear from him. It'd been his first words, much to his wife's disappointment. That'd make two children who said that first. His crazy, unruly hair on the other hand was a spitting image of his mother's curls, just with the hair color of his own at that age. She set him down, and he crawled over toward him, thankfully in what seemed like old clothes as he plowed through the dirt and grass. The girl behind him just shrugged. They were meant to get dirty, weren't they? They were kids.

"Hello there," he said, scooping up the second child into his arms, and smiled widely. The little boy went right to playing with his uniform, something he did constantly when it was on. She always said that he would follow in his footsteps, do what he did best. If it was anything like history, she would be right. He'd be fourth generation military. He just hoped he got an easier ride than he did. "Why don't you take your brother over there for a second, show him the new ball that I brought home?"

"What new ball?" the little girl cried, flipping around until she saw a bright pink ball that had somehow managed to reveal itself on the grass. His wife flashed her eyes at him, sparkling and almost giggling, knowing he had his ways of doing things without a single person noticing. "OH! Daddy brought home a new toy." She tapped her little brother's arm as they were both put down. "Come on, Rocky! Let's go. I bet it bounces high!"

They ran (or crawled) off together, and the crazy red haired woman slipped up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, kissing him deeply on the lips. "Hello Master Sergeant Hanson," she purred into his ears. "And how was your day?"

"I'm hungry," he whined.

"You forgot your lunch," she agreed. "We quite enjoyed it."

"You ate my lunch?!"

A loud, high pitched shriek of enjoyment came from the grass. He turned and watched his two kids toss the ball back and forth. "We were hungry," she finally said, watching them too. "Those kids are insane."

"I wonder where they get it from," he teased, kissing her again. They walked over to the porch, newly painted thanks to some time off from the Army, and made their way over to the swing, again that had been redone in some attempts to make their little home even more perfect. He pulled her close, loving how it felt to finally be home all the time with them. His new job had been a recent change, and he'd been so grateful for what he'd done.

Switching from active duty to what his father had done before he retired had been tough though. He was used to the crazy days, the long deployments, and coming home every night to his wife and two kids felt like a dream. The weekends were his favorite though—when she snuck off for two long days at the florist shop in town. He got those two crazy kids to himself. And while he loved that, there was nothing better than having all four of them together.

"Alex, did you ever think we'd make it here?" he mused, again kissing her. He loved to take advantage of that.

"Sometimes no," she admitted, watching their daughter chase a butterfly. "Especially that last deployment when she was so young and I was alone. I worried every day."

"We're here now though. And Rocky is doing so well."

"He likes to have his daddy around," she murmured.

"I like to be around."

"I like you around, too." Alex smiled at him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It's everything I've ever wanted. And you still were able to do what you love. A little compromise, but we're still here, in this beautiful house with what I'd say is the perfect little dream." She went quiet for a moment. "I brought them to the cemetery for the first time today."

He stiffened a bit. "Yeah?"

"It was a little weird. There were dragonflies everywhere. They kept chasing Rocky. I never expected him to do that sort of thing. I know he probably has been waiting though, wanting to see his namesake." She paused, looking over at one year old Rocky Ellington Hanson. "And Remy wouldn't stop talking… I don't know to who. I guess they're just in sync with whatever we are. I know he's not far away. I know he's still watching over us to this day. He's probably mad that you went with his name second, though. Never could share the spotlight," she teased.

"Hey! I share plenty."

"Now you sound like Remy."

"Daddy, watch how high it bounces!"

Neon pink went sailing through the air and a toothy smile from his daughter had him smiling, too. The ball landed a bit further away, and the two went chasing after it, squealing the entire way.

He rolled his eyes and then became serious. "I'm glad you brought them there. Maybe next time we can go as a family. It's not a bad tradition to make. When they are old enough, we can tell them more about who he was, and who their grandfather was, too."

A timer went off from inside the house. "Oh! Dinner. I almost forgot. We should get in, I guess. Remy, grab your brother and come inside! It's time to wash up for dinner."

The girl turned around and Rocky finally got a good look at her from afar that day. Dressed in a yellow dress and cowboy boots, hair in crazy curls just below her shoulders, he saw her mother in every inch of her. And then Rocky, crawling along in a pair of jeans and a camo colored shirt, his blond curls resting like a mop on his head. They were definitely their kids, and he couldn't be more happy.

He walked the distance over, picking both children up, now covered in dirt and grass stains, but smiling happily at their parents. He followed Alex to the door and looked out at his old red truck and smiled. Yeah, there was a lot to love outside. The flowers, the land, his truck, and all the country had to offer. But as he turned and made his way inside to where dinner awaited him—where three people he loved more than anything waited—he couldn't help but think what was on the inside of his home could put that outside to shame.