Letters From Home
Based on the song 'Letters From Home' by John Michael Montgomery (italics are the letters, and at the end, the lyrics to the song)
"Ryan! Mail call!" he heard a yell from the front of the Barracks.
"Sir?" he asked.
His sergeant handed him his letter and he read the return address. It was from his parents.
Dear Jake,
It's almost June. I hope this letter catches up with you, and finds you well. It's been dry, but they're calling for rain. And everything's the same old same in Malibu. Your stubborn old daddy hasn't said very much, but I'm sure you know he sends his love…
He read to himself. When he finished he held it up to the guys in his group, which included his brother-in-law Jackson, and his best friend Oliver.
"Momma sends her best y'all." he grinned.
Jackson and Oliver laughed.
"You've been spending way to much time with Miley." Jackson grinned.
Jake just smiled and folded the letter up, putting it in the pocket closest to his heart.
"Oken!" the sergeant yelled, and handed the boy a letter.
He grinned from ear to ear when he read the return address.
"Carissa?" Jake asked.
Oliver nodded and opened the letter.
My dearest love,
It's almost dawn, and I've been lying here all night long wondering where you might be. I saw your momma today, and I showed her the ring…. A man on the TV said some things about Iraq, so I couldn't sleep… but don't worry, I'll be alright, I'm just missing you, and this is me kissing you: xo xo xo, honey…
He couldn't wipe the grin off his face even if he had tried.
"What did she say Oliver?" Jackson asked.
"Nothing." Oliver blushed.
"Why are you blushing? Must have been good." Jake grinned.
"Ok, I will read part of it… she says she saw my mom today, and she watched TV, and she misses us." he smiled.
They both new he was leaving out A LOT of very important, juicy details.
"She called you honey, didn't she?" Jackson asked with a wink.
"If you must know." Oliver said, still grinning.
"I wish you would read us the good parts." Jake rolled his eyes.
"She'd kill me." Oliver laughed.
Oliver mimicked Jakes actions, and Carissa's letter was placed close to Oliver's heart.
"Stewart!"
Jackson was expecting something from Lilly, or maybe even Miley, but he started crying when he saw that it was from his dad. He hadn't heard from him since he left on tour six months earlier. Lilly and Miley would right at least once a week, and all of his family in Tennessee would right him, but his dad never did. He had taken it hard when he heard his only son had been deployed.
"From your dad?" Oliver asked knowingly.
Jackson nodded and opened it.
Dear son,
I know I ain't written, but sitting here tonight alone in the kitchen it occurred to me, that I might not have said it before you left, so I'll say it now. Son, you make me proud…
Jackson calmly wiped his eyes and folded the letter, placing close to his heart. Nobody dared laugh at him. Sure, Jake and Oliver had letters that brought on love and laughter, but there is nothing funny when a soldier cries.
Letters from Home
John Michael Montgomery
Dear son it's almost June. I hope this letter catches up with you and finds you well. It's been dry but they're calling for rain. Everything's the same old same in Johnsonville. Your stubborn old daddy ain't said too much, but I'm sure you know he sends his love.
And she goes on in a letter from home.
I hold it up and show my buddies like we ain't scared and our boots ain't muddy, and they all laugh like there's something funny bout the way I talk, when I say 'momma sends her best y'all'
I fold it up and put it in my shirt, pick up my gun, and get back to work, and it keeps my driving on.
Waiting on letters from home.
My dearst love, it's almost dawn, and I've been lying here all night long wondering where you might be. I saw your momma and I showed her the ring. Man on the television said some things so I couldn't sleep. But I'll be alright, I'm just missing you. This is me kissing you x's and o's.
In a letter from home.
I hold it up and show my buddies like we ain't scared and out boots ain't muddy and they all laugh cuz she calls me honey but there take it hard, cuz I don't read the good parts. I fold it up and put it in my shirt, pick up my gun and get back to work, and it keeps me driving on.
Waiting on letters from home.
Dear son, I know I ain't written, but sitting her tonight alone, in the kitchen it occurs to me, I might not have said it, so I'll say it now.
Son, you make me proud.
I hold it up and show my buddies like we ain't scared and our boots ain't muddy, but no one laughs, cuz there ain't nothing funny when a soldier cries. I just wipe my eyes. I fold it up and put it in my shirt, pick up my gun and get back to work, and it keeps me driving on.
Waiting on letters from home.
