You sat on the swinging bench on the front porch, wrapped up in a blanket as you waited for his arrival. He was supposed to be returning from a six month mission. You stared up at the moon, getting excited and disappointed as cars drove by.

You held onto one of his dog-tags, resting your lips against it until a car pulled into the driveway. You dropped the blanket as you ran over to it and finally saw him.

“I told ye I’d make it back,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you.