John was covered in mud. He didn't even notice the filth anymore because they had to live in it. They were taking a well-deserved rest on a very long hike.

John reached into a pocket and pulled out the packet that he kept in a plastic bag. They were letters from Mary. They were what got him through the hell he was in and gave him hope for when he got home.

My Dearest Love,

The garden is growing nicely, but the rabbits keep getting into it. I hate to shoo them away because they need to eat, too. I just wish they'd eat grass of whatever it is that they eat besides my vegetables.

Last night I dreamed that you were home. You just walked in like you'd only been gone to the store down the street instead of where you are now.

One day I went to my mailbox and there were two letters from you! I'm always so happy when I get them. It doesn't matter what you write, John, I just love hearing from you. To me, they are little love notes from overseas.

I try to keep my letters upbeat but I miss you so much. There's a space in my chest that just feels empty. I think you'll be able to help me fill that spot when you get home. We'll keep all our new memories there.

I've been looking at bridal magazines and getting ideas for our wedding. If you have any requests, you'd better speak up now. I might have my mind set with what I want by the time you get home. Then again, all I really have to have there is you and I'll be fine.

Think of this letter as filled with hugs and kisses. I have no other way to send my love to you. I've put some of my perfume on the tissue, I didn't want to put it on the letter and chance blurring my writing.

I miss you. I dream of the day you return to me and I can hold you in my arms. Just come home to me, baby. I can help with whatever baggage you come home with. I just love you, John. I always will.

Your girl,

Mary

John folded the letter back into the envelope. He held the tissue to his face, but it had long since lost it's scent. Just knowing that the paper and tissue had been in Mary's hands made him feel like he still had a connection to the world he used to know.

He was in a different world now. Mary and her letters were his only link to the world he'd be going home to. She was his lifeline.