had missed her first day of kindergarten, absent for the moment she put on the new backpack she had picked out herself.
He had missed them over twenty-seven video calls that froze mid-sentence because the satellite connection couldn’t bridge the distance between a father and his daughter. In his duffel bag, nestled between his socks and shaving kit, was a stuffed rabbit he had bought at a base exchange in Kuwait. It was purple, her favorite color.
He had carried that rabbit through three forward operating bases, two helicopter transfers, and one close call with a mortar round that had landed fifty meters from his tent. Next to it was a manila folder. Inside lay his Bronze Star citation.
Four months ago, that medal had changed everything. A convoy had hit an IED outside a forward operating base in Syria. Aaron could still see the smoke rising black against
