“Oh, I recall those mornings,” he laughed. “Somehow the memories never really go away. Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise.”
“Maybe…” I responded. “How did you get past these awful mornings? What did you do instead?”
“That’s when I really developed a love of the great outdoors,” Brian said brightly.
“Weren’t you always in the outdoors in the Navy?” I asked as I ate another strawberry.
“I’ve always loved nature, but the SEALs training wasn’t really about being ‘one with nature’,” he explained. “We spent a lot of time outside, but it was less about appreciating the surroundings and more about defending the territory or whatever.”
“Or whatever?” I questioned. I was genuinely interested in what he’d done and seen while in the service, but I didn’t know how to ask about it without sounding like a gawking jerk.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said firmly, closing the door on that line of inquiry. “SEALs training is all about rescue and survival tactics, so I learned a lot about how to live on very little food and how to navigate my way out of just about any location on the face of the earth, but I didn’t spend a whole lot of time contemplating my human existence. I mean, we were, after all, there to do a job.”
“But aren’t you guys the ones who do all the brave heroic rescues?” I asked. “Aren’t you the ones that whenever someone is in trouble the president calls and asks to solve the problem?”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” he said as he dramatically rolled his eyes. “We’re on the president’s speed dial, best buds and all.”
Before I could stop it, a small burble of laughter escaped from my lips and I quickly bit my tongue to contain it. Sheepishly, I looked over at Brian, only to find him shaking with silent laughter himself.
“You’re so mean!” I cried.
“What? I’m mean?” he laughed harder at my mock outrage. “Because I’m laughing at the fact that you think Navy SEALs are gods?”
“No! I mean, yes! Wait, what?” I was confused. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you take me so seriously,” he chuckled.
“Shouldn’t I?”
“Sometimes, you should,” he replied as he took another sip of his coffee.
“Ick! Isn’t that cold by now?” I interjected as I watched him drink.
“A little, but it’s not bad,” he said taking another sip. “You should have tasted the stuff we drank while out on patrol. Now that was disgusting.”
“I can’t even imagine,” I said as I poured the last bit of my own cold coffee onto the riverbank and tossed the empty cup into the trash bag. “And yet you still like to be outdoors? Roughing it?”
“Oh, my outdoor treks couldn’t even remotely be considered roughing it,” he laughed again. “I camp in relative luxury these days. A sleeping bag, food supplies, and dry socks are all I need to get out and get away from civilization and all its headaches. It helps me stay sane and balanced.”
I nodded as I listened to him describe the beauty of solo trekking and the ways in which it kept him grounded and focused on what mattered—sobriety.
“Have you ever been camping, Ava?” he asked.
“Who? Me?” I was shocked by the question, and I laughed as I said, “Have you actually met me?”
Brian’s response was loud, deep laughter that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. I’d never heard someone laugh so hard at something I’d said, and his laughter sparked my own. “Right, I can see it now,” he gasped. “You’d bring a backpack full of shoes and hair products!”
“No, I wouldn’t!” I cried indignantly. “I’d have some makeup, too!”
Brian roared and added another layer to the list of things I’d be packing for a camping trip, to which I added a few more essentials. Soon we were laying on the riverbank laughing so hard we both had tears rolling down our cheeks. It took a while for us to calm down, but once we did, Brian pushed himself up to lean on his elbow and gave me a serious look.
“Stick with me and you’ll learn to pack properly, kid.”
“Uh, you’re not that much older than me, soldier,” I replied smiling. “And I can pretty much guarantee that I’m probably not going to get on board with this full-on camping agenda.”
“Never say never,” he shot back smiling.
“I never do,” I laughed.