Fire in the Snow

2022

2 13

1935.

It was not a phone number. It was a date and a time.

Martin laughed again, freely and brightly. None of that mattered now; his plans would stay the same. This would just add extra strength to his conviction.

Pulling out a blank piece of paper, he wrote a single line. It was a letter to Risha, one that he would begin today, telling the story of his new life going forward. It would take almost three years to finish.

Then, on February 13th, 2022 at exactly 7:35 p.m., he would go to an ice cream shop at the corner of Mt. Pleasant Avenue and Irving Street, Northwest, in Washington, D.C. He would walk up the stairs, listen to the bell on the door ring, and head over to the stools by the counter in front of the window.

Risha would be sitting there, waiting for him. He would give her the letter, and tell her everything he had done to be a better man.

He hoped it would make her smile.

EPILOGUE

February 13th, 2022

Dear Risha,

Today, I decided to be the kind of man you could believe in. Today, I decided to truly live....

I first wrote that line over two years ago. I had no idea at the time how difficult it was going to be. I would like to say it has all been a great journey onward and upwards, but that's just not how life works.

You were right, of course. I was far more broken than I realized. I'm proud of the moments of clarity I had on my own, letting go of the past. But it took most of two years of working with a counselor, and a strong group of vets who knew the struggle, to really slog through the damage. There were some dark times along the way, let me tell you, but I had a band of brothers at my back to help me through.

I took some time off from my job. I wish I could tell you I let it go right away, but I held on pretty hard. At first, because I was trying to numb the pain, but then later because I wanted to try to make things better. I'd done the wrong thing before, and I tried to make it right. Once I made that switch, though, the Board ended up letting me go. They said I wasn't willing to "do what it takes" anymore. It was a blow to my big ego, for sure.

In the end, it turned out to be good timing. One of my vet buddies connected me up with a position at the VA working on the healthcare side of things. I'm still making deals, and bashing heads, but at least I feel like I'm helping sick vets along the way. Turns out, the whole system was a mess, and they needed someone to clean it up. Then, of course, this whole pandemic thing hit. I'd like to think my work helped some heroes get healthy. Maybe it even helped save a life or two.

You'll probably want to know about the visions. I don't see my buddy Jamal haunting me, or anything. Not anymore. Now and then I still get powerful flashes of something bigger than this world.

It took a while building trust, but I ended up telling the counselor about it. I thought for sure they would say that I was crazy, but it turns out that I was in kind of a "diagnostic gray area," whatever that means. The counselor asked me, "Do the visions make your life better? Do they help other people?" I had to say that they did. Even the vision of my dead buddy was trying to help me heal. "Then does it matter where they come from?" That was a good question. I still don't have an answer.

Don't worry, though, I've never shared our poem with anyone. Not my counselor, not my buddies, not even to anyone else who might read this letter. It's something sacred. I plan to keep it that way, forever a secret between you, me, and the snow.

I still don't understand any of this--maybe it's God, maybe it's spiritual, maybe it's just the voices in my head--but all I care about is that it brought me to you.

I still think about you almost every day. You really are extraordinary, Risha. I'm not going to lie and say I haven't been with other women. I'm not a priest, and I'm not made of marble. I can say, sincerely, that no other woman could hold a candle to you. You're the sun. Everyone else is dim in comparison.

But you were right to leave me. I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you, but I respect the hell out of you for doing it. I tried to jump into some love affairs along the way, and... let's just say they didn't end well. I got hurt, and I ended up hurting some great women, too. I was in a really dark place sometimes. It terrifies me to think about what it would have been like if you had been around. Hurting you would have destroyed me, too.

It's true there were days that I wanted to die. As time has gone on, and I've gotten used to what it feels like to be a whole person again, that feeling has faded away. It's like that was another life. It's pretty amazing to see myself write this. Because there were times when I thought I would never get out of that pain. You were right; it takes time. Not days; not months; YEARS. But if you just decide to do it (with a lot of help along the way) you really can change.

I wonder sometimes what you've been doing. Maybe you've gone back to school, or traveled the world again. Maybe you've got a job. I bet you're doing something to help people no one else believes in. I hope wherever you are, you've found ways to see yourself the way I see you.

I know you have a hard time believing that you're special. Even harder to believe you can do something good in the world. Well, lady, let me give you the intel-- you've changed my life forever. One night with you was more important than a decade of trying it my way. You crashed into me like a being sent from heaven, and shook me to my core. I'll never be the same.

I don't know what happens next. I don't know where you're at in your life. But I hope that when you meet me today, you realize that you've made me a better man. I hope thinking about me makes you smile.

I'd like nothing less than to keep doing that today, and tomorrow, and every other day that you'd like to share with me on this crazy, beautiful world.

Sincerely,

Martin