He says your name from somewhere nearby like he's trying it out again. (But he's not trying it out, he's got a girlfriend. He's like a suit, he's like---all the mystery's gone.) He just stands there looking great in a beard and hoodie and you think you have pesto in your teeth but you smile and try to hug him but bury your face not-in-his-shoulder---but why are you doing this so weird, you're just friends but you can't think of what to say after two years and the embrace isn't the same as that day you walked around downtown for several hours dancing carefully around the blisters in summer sandals, and he wanted to be with you back then.  Was good for you back then. When you had a strong chin and you had the glow of college and love notes from men in their twenties-not-thirties-or-forties. But you gave it up for the long-term plan. You held up your end of the bargain, and then what? You had to learn a new life and you got to be the one quietly carrying some baton and driving home so late at night that the early morning BBC news is on, but you can't hear it because there is no one in the passenger seat to laugh along with you to the funny things that some Vietnamese man is saying on the radio. You gotta be a different kind of strong than before.
Every day the strong becomes an electrifying, terrifying new thing that won't be easy to explain and the island you're on is a good enough home, because God is good, dammit.

God is great and He is holding up His end of the bargain, even though every day is a different hard, with different joys and hurts, He gave you mercy, so sacrificing everything should be an easy ordeal.
But you go away, and it's a different kind of richness that you miss. Not money, but being known and loved by another human being in a sack of flesh. You miss it and remember what it was like to doze off in the arms of a man who wanted to protect you and cherish you.

Walk out into beautiful cold weather. The mountains so close you can touch them or see them crystal clear. There is grace, there is grace. "Get behind me Satan," you whisper to the feelings, and tomorrow you'll be a better soldier and dodge bullets like a pro.