34. Letter
Letter
Splash,
I wish I could smash a hole through the sky and drop a thousand boxes of cookies onto your bunk right now.
Better yet, I wish I could skip tomorrow’s game, get on a flight, and bring them to you myself.
If I were there, Splash, you wouldn’t even have to ask.
I’d hold onto you for as long as you needed, and I wouldn’t let go until the noise in your head finally went quiet.
I’m not going to ask what happened today. I know you can’t tell me, and I know it hurts. Just know that I’m sitting right here in the quiet of my room, holding your letter, and thinking about you. You’re not carrying that heavy day entirely by yourself. I’m carrying a piece of it over here.
But I need you to listen to me right now. I need you to read these next words over and over until they sink in. You are completely, entirely wrong. People would love the real you. I know this because I already do.
I don’t care about the tough guy soldier armor you have to wear for the military. I don’t care about whatever mistakes you think you made today. I love the beautiful, gentle soul who draws little ducks in the margins of his pages.
That is the real you, Splash. He is the most incredible person I’ve ever known, and he deserves to be loved, not hidden away in the dark. I see him. I want him. And I am going to spend every single day reminding you of how special he is until you believe it too.
The bakery in Houston sent a double batch this morning. They’re packing up now. Hold on, my soldier. Better days are coming. I promise.
Jackson