Oh Danny, how I wish your father could see you. Of course, as far as your young mind is concerned, he can. He's sitting right beside you, listening to you read.
The sun is setting, its last beams stretching across the Tennessee wheat fields, making the great stalks shine like gold in the dancing light. The long cry of a mockingbird echoes across the sky, serenaded by the chirping of crickets. It is no longer the sound of the waves crashing against the shore that I hear, but the soothing sound of wind rustling through the tall grass and my sweet boy's voice speaking low and smoothly.
Rafe never ceases to marvel at your skills, Danny. It was your father, the father you'll never know, that taught Daddy how to read. My, how you look like him more and more with every passing day! According to Rafe, your father's hair was once golden as the wheat that sparkles in the sun, as your own, but over time it turned to a dusty brown. Your smile is identical to that of the man you'll never see, your joy and carefree ways reflecting his own.
One day Daddy will tell you why you and Grandpa have a different last name than Daddy and I have. You'll be told why Daddy has a plane but never flies it. You'll understand why he cries when he hears of soldiers losing their lives, of men dying for the friends they love.
I will tell you, son, how Cpt. Danny Walker would have been so proud of you if he knew you. He wanted Rafe to take his place as your father, not because he was ashamed of you, but because he loved you and wanted you to have a good Daddy. Indeed, Rafe has been a good dad. He loves you with a love strong enough to die for you, with a power that forces him to forget that you aren't his own flesh and blood. I pray that you will never take that love for granted.
You finish reading your book and jump up from the porch. The fireflies are swirling in the grass, and you are determined to finally catch one. Your small arms go out to your sides and you rush into the flickering lights, noises very much like those of an airplane coming out of your mouth. You leap about, laughing and chasing the pesky escapees.
"Daddy! Come get me!" You cry.
Rafe stands up and looks at me, as he has so many nights before, his dark eyes sparkling with merriment.
"Look at our son, Evelyn. He seems to think he's already flying over the Atlantic."
I nod and then watch as Rafe catches you up in his arms and holds you over his head. He spins you, laughing at your airplane noises, and then lowers you to hold you against his chest, against his heart.
"You take the left and I'll take the right," he whispers as you snuggle sleepily into his shirt.
As fearful as Daddy is of you one day being a pilot, precious child, he knows flying is in your blood. When the time comes, he won't be able to hold you back, and he won't try. You have too much of your father in you. You'll join the masses that, everyday, give their lives for complete strangers and the ones they treasure.
That was one thing your father was adamant about. Daddy could convince him out of almost everything, but not out of sacrificing his life. That is why Daddy is here. Often times it takes a life to save a life.
It is night now, and Daddy carries you onto the porch and brings you to me.
"Give Mommy a good night kiss," he says, and you obey. You give me a kiss and then Rafe brings you inside.
I linger on the front porch for a moment, looking up at the night stars before I close my eyes and let the wind brush at my hair.
Your father is very much alive, Danny, and he shows himself through you. Rafe's hope and mine is that you will grow up to be at least half the man he was. It takes a man to surrender his life, giving up all of his dreams and wants, for the lives of those he loves and especially those who he will never know.
May you learn to value the sacrifices of your father, Danny Walker, and every soldier who dies every day to keep you safe, son.
A quiet footfall alerts me to Rafe's presence, and I open my eyes and smile as he puts his hands on my shoulders for a moment and then wraps his arms around me.
"Danny would be proud," he says quietly. "Your son is everything he could ever wish for. He's smart and has a great longing to be a pilot."
"I know," I nod and then lean back against him. "But you've forgotten one important thing, Rafe."
"And that is?"
I smile sadly, tears forming in my eyes as I turn to look at the man that my son will always call his Daddy.
"He's your son," I whisper.
"But he has his father's spirit. I'll see to it that he never forgets Danny. He was my best friend. I won't let him be forgotten. I promise you that."
I turn my head and look out at the wheat fields that Rafe has told me so much about. Even in the darkness of night, I can see two little boys roaming about the fields, pointing and gazing at the sky as a plane soars overhead.
One day you'll be the one in the plane, Danny, and you'll make your country proud, just as your father did.
Thank God for the hearts of volunteers.