ME: Looks like it's Fathers Day. At least when I started writing this.
It was June 17, 2012.
Fathers Day.
The cruel irony in Bridget Steeles mind was that her father was nowhere near her.
True he did occasionally either come to Nome to visit her or allow Bridget herself to come to Alaska, but that was very rare.
So, with the card already sent to Lieutenant General James Steele in her neat, professional handwriting, Bridget Steele did the one thing she could to honor her father.
Unsurprisingly she would travel to New York to attend West Point next month. Securing a nomination from Alaskas senior Senator was too easy.
She grabbed her rifle and headed outside, careful not to wake her grandparents. They were the only things left of Bridgets her late mother apart from a lone picture in her room, and also her primary care-takers.
Expressing gratitude and allowing them to rest whenever they weren't needed was the least she could do.
Shooting was a passion of Bridgets, and that showed as she emptied the magazine and glanced to reveal "head-shots."
Her father would be proud.
ME: Odd way of appreciating your dad, don't you think? I've got family around and minimal privacy so good night.