Seven months later…
Hawkeye grinned as soon as he saw the return address on the envelope. Good ol' Mill Valley, California. He tore it open as he headed back into the house, his spirits lifted simply by seeing B.J.'s handwriting.
It was a photo Christmas card, B.J. and Erin wearing matching smiles and sitting on either side of Waggle, the family dog, who also seemed to be smiling if that was possible. Waggle had a Santa cap on his head. Hawkeye imagined it must have taken some time to get the pose just right, considering dogs weren't normally fond of wearing jolly hats for any length of time.
He opened up the card and inside, in B.J.'s scrawl, was: Merry Christmas! We miss you! Please come and visit us soon. Love, B.J. and Erin
For such a simple message, it sure did set off a whole range of emotions in Hawkeye, the primary one being a reciprocation of the feelings expressed in the card: he missed them both so much. As he stood there looking down at the card, he felt his stomach tighten with the weight of his longing.
It was seven months since Peg had passed away. Hawkeye and B.J. talked often on the phone (not quite as much lately, with the holidays approaching and both of them caught up in their respective preparations), but Hawkeye hadn't been out to California since the day he went running home to the safety of his predictable, carefree life. He could tell from B.J.'s phone calls that his depression gradually lifted, and that Erin slowly adjusted to the loss of her mother. He was sure it was difficult as hell for them, but they were strong, and they had each other. He may have been all the way across the country, but it was heartening to follow their healing process. The first time Hawkeye heard B.J. laugh, it brought tears to his eyes.
He looked again at the photo on the front of the card, and before he had a change of heart, he went to the phone and dialed the number.
Hell yes, B.J. assured him, of course we meant it when we said come visit!
Hawkeye booked a flight out west for December 30.