A Sailor's Notes

by Thunderblast

13. Two Hops and a Skip - Part II

Upon entry, the recruitment office was a whole new atmosphere to even what I would have expected. Propaganda posters symmetrically lined the greenish-brown walls, some advertising enlistment benefits such as college tuition, signing bonuses, and other gimmicks to draw in new recruits.

I stopped myself just beyond the entrance to examine each one, before moving on to a brass plaque with the Sailor's Creed engraved in bold lettering, complete with its year of origin at the bottom.

Drawing in a whiff of the sweet, flaky baked goods that have been absent for seven years, I turned to the amethyst uniformed stallion approaching from around the corner. "It still smells like bread in here," I commented.

The sailor (a Petty Officer judging by his collar devices) nodded, chuckling briefly. "Yeah, I'll admit, it is far superior to the new office scent most of our centers have." He then stretched out a hoof. "I am Petty Officer Taltucker, what can I do for you this evening?"

Like the day I stepped into Buckridge's office for an interview, I looked the stallion dead in his jade irides and firmly shook his hoof. Perhaps a bit too firm, but that all had to do with nerves. "Anchorage. I, um, noticed you all moved in here and, uh..." Come on, Anchorage, you can do better than that. "I've had interest in joinin' the Navy for some time now, and I thought it would be best to actually sit down with somepony and gather some information."

A warm, welcoming smile lit up on the petty officer's muzzle. "Always good to hear of the young's interest in serving their country, and having an understanding of all there is to know is certainly your best course of action for a career like this. Come on, Anchorage, we can talk at my desk," he said, giving a gesture of his head and turning back down the hallway he originated from.

I followed in silence as Taltucker moved through an open doorway into a brightly-lit, windowless room with night blue thin carpeting, four individual wrap-around desks, a couple of grey-hide couches surrounding a glass coffee table, a side-office behind a closed glass door and lowered blinds, and another small room through a shut wooden door.

Hung in tiers of importance, professionally-taken portraits of Princess Celestia, the commanding officers of the Navy, and even members of the Royal Court formed an arc of frames along the wall, around the emblem of the Equestrian Navy; a grayscale version of the two sisters on the national flag over top a sideways-leaning anchor.

Two other sailors of similar rank sat at their desks, one in the process of speaking to another colt who had already signed on and was visiting for a follow-up to disclose some final pieces of information vital to his enlistment. The second petty officer worked on her laptop, multitasking as she simultaneously copied onto a piece of paper.

Taltucker looped around the end of his desk and seated himself comfortably in his black office chair. "Make yourself comfortable there, Anchorage," he offered, pointing to one of the wood-finished leather seats with the word 'NAVY' in bold yellow stitched into the rest. "For reference, I'll need your basic information. This does not go towards anything but to help us determine what we need to do to help you out."

Slowly I pulled the chair back enough to slip in and sit down, sliding it forward closer to the desk as he prepared a form and a pen for me. I scanned carefully over the form, just in case, before clicking the pen and beginning to write down my name, date of birth, and anything else it requested that I was comfortable disclosing right now. This included standard medical information regarding any known abnormalities, such as asthma or something else potentially detrimental to military service.

Checking over my answers after completing any form was always a priority for me, keeping an eye peeled for any spelling errors or to make sure nothing was written in the wrong places and cause confusion. Once certain of my work, I slid the paper back across the desktop for the petty officer to look over.

"Mmhmm, mmhmm... Looks good," he noted. "In your senior year of high school, huh? You looking forward to that?" He lifted his gaze to meet mine with a cordial smile.

I nodded, reflecting his smile almost like a mirror with my own. "Very much so, sir. Been a long road, I'm about ready to leave it in the dust."

"Sounds like me when I was your age," he remarked with a grin, setting the paper down and leaning back into his chair comfortably while retaining eye contact. "We do offer programs such as the Delayed Entry Program, specifically designed for colts and fillies your age to finish up your schooling before we complete the enlistment process and send you off to boot camp. You are seventeen, yes?"

I nodded in a somewhat eager manner. "Ye-yes, that is correct. Eighteen this November." He scribbled that down, too. "What does the Delayed Entry Program do? Does it, like... is it like a reservation or somethin'? Like for my enlistment?"

Taltucker gave a so-so gesture of his shoulders and hooves. "Kind of, however it grants you the opportunity of freedom leading up to your ship-out date in case you change your mind. Personally, I consider it more of a boot camp prep, where we—all of us Petty Officers—set you up to be on the right track, both physically and morally.

"Most of it is simple exercising and other physical activities ahead of the otherwise intensive screenings that take place at basic training. Other activities include studying for quizzes on the Chain of Command, teaching proper attitude, and other need-to-knows going in, because it is our duty as recruiters to make sure every pony we take in is ready."

"I see," I nodded in understanding while I considered my next question. "So, for somepony like me, the DEP is a good place to start?"

The petty officer smiled, tipping his chin in agreement. "It is what I would recommend. We offer the program out as far as twelve months in advance of a ship-out date. Of course, as demand comes and goes every year, the fleet may need you sooner, or they may have us hold on to you a little bit longer, situation dependent. Your readiness through initial processing may also vary."

"Now, if you do not mind, I would like to ask you a few questions. Personal, non-prying things, mostly, but feel free to answer them as you please. This is just so we can get to know you a little bit more," he said, opening a drawer in his desk and producing a piece of paper for him to scribble down notes on.

"Of course, sir," I replied respectfully so. Addressing him formally would reflect positively on my record and perhaps better my chances at a decent start into the Navy.

Clicking the pen in his hoof, he briefly scanned over the first printed question. "Any hobbies?"

"Boats and ships, for starters," I answered with a grin. "Sometimes I'll sketch things here and there. Mostly boats, again."

Taltucker jotted that down on the provided black line. "So an interest for being out on the water and part-time artist. Any reason why those two things?"

I gave a small shrug of my shoulders, unsure of how best to describe them. "The water and the machines we've built to traverse it just intrigues me, always has."

"How long have you had an interest in becoming a sailor?" he queried next.

"Um..." I paused to ponder. "About a couple of years. Longer if we're talkin' non-military. It kind of came to me because my father served."

"So that answers my next question, any family history in the service, or the Navy specifically other than your father?" he asked while quickly writing these bits down.

"Besides him? My great grandfather, I believe. I couldn't tell you what branch he served," I remarked with a chuckle.

He smirked some at that. "Do you play any sports?"

I shook my head. "No, sir. Used to want to play hoofball back in middle school, though, if that counts for anythin'."

The petty officer simply wrote an 'x' in the space. "Now, what word would you use to describe how you feel about the idea of traveling?"

I blinked twice, spending a good couple of seconds thinking. "Exhilarated?"

He wrote that down, too. "What about a word to describe your feelings toward working as a team to make the world a better place?"

"Ecstatic, for sure."

"You like the E words, huh?" he chortled, placing both the pen and paper off to the side and leaning forward to put his hooves together on the desk. "So, back to the Delayed Entry Program. Electing to sign up for it is most certainly the best option the Navy offers to recruits as it allows a flexible schedule to prepare you for basic training, which is solely in Chicoltgo.

"About twice a week—depending on your availability since you did mention you are still in school—we will meet for sessions to get you in shape. Nothing too intense, perhaps an hour to two hours of physical activity alongside other recruits, along with introduction to drill and proper military posture.

"Now, I am obligated to inform you that even though this program is specialized for minors until they are of age, parental or guardian approval is required before we can move forward with anything."

Learning this made the veins themselves freeze over, not just the blood in them. How could I neglect to acknowledge this? Damn laws, requiring the presence of one's parent to sign for their foal into the military, even if they are borderline adult...

Worse yet, Mom wasn't even fully aware of my intentions. All of this would be a new development to her, as it was for me right this moment.

"I don't suppose you are able to bring your parents in today at all?" the petty officer questioned curiously. The change of demeanor on my countenance told him before I could muster a reply, and he simply smiled. "That is all right. I will keep your information on file, and when you are able to bring them in, feel free to do so. I am open for appointments at any time."

I nodded slowly, shrinking some into my seat as negative thoughts regarding my mother's reaction drilled itself into my soul. It was then that I began to wonder if I should have given this another day or two just to have her acknowledge what I am out here doing.

Plucking one from a little plastic holder, Taltucker slid a rectangular contact card with his information printed on towards me. "Here is this, in case you would like to call before your next visit. I am in from eight to six, Monday through Friday."

Politely I took the card, examining it briefly before looking back up at him and smiling, albeit more anxiously this instance. "Thank you, Petty Officer. I will let you know how things go, but I will be back soon to talk some more."

"From somepony as close to his guns as you, I expect no less," he nodded once, standing up and offering his hoof out one last time. "Have a good one."

"You, too." We shook as I rose, and with that, I was out the door in no more than a minute with his calling card tucked away in a pocket.

All that was left now is to finally completely enlighten Mom on my plans.

⚓

Sizzling emanated from the skillet as a combination of diced carrots, broccoli, and spiral noodles cooked to perfection, shuffled and mixed around with the spatula in my hoof. The kitchen and dining room filled with the mouthwatering aroma of the garlic seasoning, one that made my stomach growl simply by taking a whiff.

Not often did I step up to make meals, simply because I still have yet to learn how to cook more than just pasta. The one exception for tonight was to have her in a slightly easier position to slide my intentions to her casually. That, and being able to make food on my lonesome will help once I am out on my own.

Mom sighed contently as she waited patiently at the table. "You really didn't have to make dinner tonight, sweetie. You've been up since six this morning working."

"But you always cook, you earned a break," I replied, smiling to myself as I stirred the contents around, ensuring every piece of carrot and broccoli completely cooked through with a quick taste.

Turning off the stove burner, I brought the skillet to the side where two plain white plates waited, scraping off equal portions for the two of us with some still left over, before carrying both of our dishes to the table to finally eat.

She smiled as the plate was set in front of her, neatly prepared with a perfect balance of the mixed ingredients. "Thank you, my little Anchorage." While she appeared mildly anxious to dig in, on first taste she lowered her guard and happily chowed on her dinner, much to my relief.

"You're welcome, Mom," I kissed her on the forehead, rounding the table to sit in my own spot.

I took two small bites of carrot, feeling my stomach twist into small knots as my mind raced to think of how to approach the topic, despite a good two hours of carefully plotting it in my head. Actually coming to execute a plan such as this found me trouble, knowing the potential outcome's unpredictability. This time, I can't chicken out.

"So... Mom..." I began, struggling to restrain any signs of shakiness from my voice. "Did you... um... did you see what they put in downtown?"

She made sure to swallow the chewed food in her mouth before speaking. "I have not been through downtown in a couple of weeks, my love. What is it?"

It suddenly became harder to breathe for some reason. "A recruiting center for the Navy. It's... um... it's across the street from work, where that bakery used to be."

Her ears perked some, though not fully attentively. So far it didn't seem like she was catching on. "Oh? Good for them, maybe they figure this year's seniors might show an interest."

"Ye-yeah, perhaps." I let off a small, nervous chuckle. Butterflies tickled beyond the boundaries of my stomach in full-on panic mode. "Yo-you know how, when Dad came back from deployment, I said I wanted to join?"

This time there was a small change in her demeanor when I said that, judging by how hard she stabbed her fork into a chunk of broccoli and carrot. She probably hoped I wouldn't continue.

"I... um..." my hooves tapped along the edges of the table. "I went in after work and sat with a recruiter for a bit."

The fork in her hoof stopped halfway to her parted maw. Rather than preparing to take a bite, her jaw hung slack out of stupefaction. At the same time I felt the whole world come to a screeching halt as at any second, I expected her to either lash out, or break down into a wide range of emotion all at once.

Remorse permeated my soul as I shrunk into my chair in chagrin, jolting when her fork clanked loudly onto the plate after falling out of her grasp.

The worry on her countenance displayed itself like a billboard in the dead of midnight as she sat up, straight-spined. "You didn't sign anything, did you?"

My ears stood up, eyes widening. "What? No, no. I just... sat down to talk, and ask a few questions..." My gaze darted to the side momentarily before I remade contact. "I did... express my interest in enlisting."

I felt the room go cold with anxious tension shared between the two of us. Suddenly, she gagged, as if she was about to hurl. She jumped up from her chair and rushed to the kitchen sink, losing what few bites of dinner she'd eaten down the food disposal.

After washing the mess down the drain with running water, she wiped her mouth with a paper towel and returned her attention to me, wide-eyed. "Wouldn't you rather, you know... get yourself a nice blue collar career close to home, so you can stay with me? It would get pretty lonely around the house."

"I could do that, but... Mom, I want this more. I can travel the world, just like I've always wanted to!" I waved my hoof around.

Her volume raised some, though not frighteningly. Yet. "So, what, you're just going to up and leave?! You still have a month and a half of school left! Anchorage, you can't just drop out and go straight to the Navy, they won't accept you without a diploma!"

"That's just it! They offer a program for ponies still in schooling, so that we can finish up before we go! I'm not of age yet anyways, Mom, they would need your approval in-office to let me enlist straightforward."

"Well, you are sure as hell not getting any signature out of me," she said in yet another change of tone, sitting back into her chair, staring down at her plate as she tried to return to eating.

My ears drooped back partially. "Mom, it's just to get me into the program! I will be in it for as long as I am in school. All it is is exercises and teachin' of military attitude, that's all!"

“No, Anchorage! I refuse to let them take one more of my family for Celestia-knows-what!" she yelled, slamming her hoof on the table, shaking both of our dishes. "Do you see what the Navy did to your father?! It got him killed!”

"No, what got him killed was the lack of help he received! You saw him get off that boat a different pony, we both did! You dare speak ill of the dead, Mom?!"

"He wouldn't have needed help if it wasn't for the Navy sending him off to war!" she shouted with evident heartbreak in her eyes behind the furious glare she donned. "If you think for a second that I am going to let my son, my only son, march off to potentially face a similar fate, you are sadly mistaken!"

Letting off a frustrated sigh, she eased herself back. "I don't want to hear any more of this, ever again. Not even when you turn eighteen. Until you decide to move out of my house, what you do with your life for the time being shall be for me to worry about, not you."

My blood steadily began to boil. Eighteen or not, even as my mother she had no right dictating my life's path. She hadn't changed one bit since the days of sitting out by the marina boatwatching when she would yell at and lecture me to not be influenced by the sea.

As she got up to refill her glass, I sat in raging silence. Were it physically possible, my eyes would have turned blood red right then. Without warning, I swiftly rose from my chair hard enough to audibly slide the table away a few inches.

"You've never supported me or my choices, even since we moved here for Dad. You despised my friends, even after they proved their innocence to you and we did absolutely no wrong to anybody. Now as I approach adulthood, you still treat me like a mindless drone with no ability to think for myself, and when I finally decide what I want to do with my life, you shoot me down! You're... you're a bitch!"

The word as it escaped my mouth went like an invisible force that practically punched the glass from her hoof, smashing it to pieces against the hardwood floor. This created yet another ice that filled the room, enhanced by the eerie silence that seemingly put a pause on everything.

Mom was utterly dumbfounded. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and she gaped at the mouth. Some distance was added to her stance, having recoiled a couple steps solely out of shock.

Regret swiftly filled the emptiness that abruptly followed as the realization came. Did it show on my face? No, it did not. The look I wore spoke differently, that there was more to be said than there actually was.

Her form trembled down to her hooves, ears flat to her skull and eyes glassed over with tears. I struck her where it hurts, and that is precisely where I planned to leave it.

Without another word spoken, I strolled with heavy steps into the living room, up the stairs, and into my room with a final slam of my door.

I didn't need her approval. One way or another, I was going. Whether she liked it or not, there was going to be one more sailor in the family tree. The glass on the kitchen floor, our relationship as a downsizing family, it was all her mess to pick up.

⚓

Every morning after that night for three weeks started out the same, and for all days of the week I made sure to stay out of the house for as long as I could, even if it meant sitting on a rotting wood bench for three hours straight. Other than to sleep, it felt as if there was no reason to go back home and see her.

It hurt. Every last second of it. I saw no need to apologize for the profane name calling, because it was true.

In that time, we had maybe spoken five words to each other. Until she comes around, in all unlikeliness of that, I strictly refuse to strike a real conversation with the mare I am forced to accept as my parent.

Some instances I found myself contemplating dark ideas, ones that I even briefly considered carrying out against her. Intrusive thoughts mostly, but obtrusively out of my usual demeanor.

Today we made eye contact for the first time since. On my way out for school, she stood in the walkway between the living room and the kitchen, notably distraught. Something was definitely on her mind, but she failed to vocalize it before I turned a cold shoulder and shut the door behind me.

It seemed as though November would never arrive, knowing it marked the end of high school for me, and my eighteenth birthday. Perhaps fate purposely lengthened the span of time itself to hold me in an infinite, torturous loop of having to share a house with the very pony whose only goal is to derail my hopes and dreams.

Without her word, however, I was still stuck. The Navy won't take me into the DEP, and for another four weeks plus however long processing takes is the time left for me to suffer this now-bleak life, and I knew damn well this attitude will come back to bite me when it's finally time to leave for Chicoltgo. I would have to find some way to put up with it so that my career won't be in jeopardy, because one pony's emotional misery can lead to a whole group's failure.

As I tread down the path leading to the school's entrance, I took note of a peculiar lack of students doing similarly. The closer I came to the doors, the stranger things got when total darkness barring natural light inside met my sights.

Peeking in through the glass pane that made up the door's center, I scanned for any signs of life within. Nothing. My next instinct was to try the door; locked. Not a note anywhere, either. At least, not where one could easily spot it.

Glancing down, a piece of paper with a few words printed on read: Water leak. No class's today or tomorrow. I hoped no one that works here made that sign, because they sure as hell didn't finish school.

Just what I needed, more time to myself with nothing to do to pass it. The last thing I'd have wanted was to go back home, knowing I'm too much awake now to even attempt to burn more of the day away by sleeping, and it's unlikely that, despite Buckridge's generosity, he would be willing to let me work a double shift.

All I could think of on the fly was to take another trip to the recruitment office downtown to continue my discussion with Taltucker, even though signing anything was still out of my reach. That would be something to bring up with him, too.

The walk into town was a brisk and breezy one, per usual. Most of the trees apart from standard pines had long shed their leaves for the season, and what remained littered about after countless storms since then crunched damply under my hooves. It amazed me how long this island has gone without a single snowflake, as first snows typically occur during the middle of August, or September at the latest.

Gander Cove was well prepared in advance, though. Storefronts, one of the most prominent being the one employing me, displayed heavy-duty shovels for all ages and an assortment of colors. Large sacks of salt piled in opened cardboard containers, holding down metal signs at their base while the pole poked up through a narrow gap in the center to advertise a price. Seven bits for a twenty-pound bag? Not a bad deal. Only exception is, up here, you burn through that stuff like there's no tomorrow.

Unlike first time, I hesitated none opening the recruiting office's door. This instance I had the wide picture of what I wanted to discuss thanks to a steady train of thought on the walk over.

Two steps into the office were as far as I got, however, before I came to an abrupt halt at a sight I purely did not, nor would have ever expected to catch outside of the dreamscape; Mom, politely seated in the chair across from a now-neutral faced Taltucker. My unannounced entrance might have caught them off guard, too, judging by the look on both of their faces.

"Anchorage..." she said, ears low as she made an attempt at eye contact, which I quickly prevented by turning to the recruiter.

"What is going on here?" I questioned to him in total ignorance of my mother, firmly in tone.

Petty Officer Taltucker blinked twice, confused by my reaction. "Your mother came in to ask some questions. I have been talking to her for the last ten minutes about your enlistment."

"Yeah?" my stare transitioned to a scowl, redirecting toward the mare with him. "Has she mentioned her stern opinion against that?"

The amethyst stallion's attention turned to Hazy, puzzled by my claims as he very evidently was not made aware of our present conflict at home, and now apparently the recruiter's office.

"I just... thought I would get to know the pony I am to trust to take care of my son before he leaves," she asserted apprehensively, holding her little red purse close under a protective hoof, all while offering an innocent smile.

I recoiled some at that in disgust. "Let's take this outside. Just the two of us," I said coldly, turning and moving out of the main office for the door outside.

Once the two of us were out on the street and the door had clicked shut on its own, I spun to face her with a glare of daggers.

"What are you doin' here, Mom? Come to sabotage my chances at somethin' worth my time?"

This time she winced, appearing hurt by that accusation. She spoke softly to retain civility. "N-no, honey, I... I came to make things right, between the both of us."

My brow furrowed in suspicion. In my honest opinion, the best move would be to slam the door in her ass and move on. For all I knew she could have been playing me like a fiddle, but for dignity and respect's sake I chose to listen to what she had to say.

"Yo-you're right... I am a bitch. I have been one to you since... well... the day we moved to this town. I spent my time worrying that your father would influence you so much, that you only ever wanted to do with him and never me, a-and... I've been afraid of losing our relationship, but I haven't stopped to consider my approach, or how you might feel.

"I imagine all of these years, th-that's what you've been meaning to call me, isn't it?" she smiled brokenly in attempt to laugh it off. "I deserved it. But... I just want you to know, I've always wanted the best for you, my not-so-little Anchorage. I love you to the ends of the earth and back, and the last thing I want for you is to be hurt."

With a shaky sigh, she continued. "But I must also come to terms with the fact that, you will soon be an adult, and the choices you make now fall in line for that. I may not... agree with your decision to join, but... as your mother, I support your choice, and I will stand behind you the whole way."

My ears folded back. The becoming-adult side of my conscience advised against believing her for all she's done in the past. "I always loved Dad more than you. Now he's gone, and you're all of the immediate family I have left."

Saying this visibly hurt her, but the feelings were mutual. Dad's departure brought an unwavering pain to the both of us, though apart from that it felt as though her and I had no common connection. I wanted that to change, but my question was whether or not I am to expect it.

When I spoke again, my voice cracked under the crushing weight of suppressed emotions. "All I want, Mom, is for you to be proud of me for who I am... and what I aspire to be, and that is to be just like him."

Tears sat in our eyes as we made contact for the longest time in almost two years. Rather than clearing her own first, she raised a hoof to wipe my eyes dry, then hold my cheek comfortingly.

"I am proud of you, Anchorage. I never was not." She did her best to smile against all combined sentiment of the moment. "That is my fault for not showing you the love I mean to give you. The only reason I did not want you to go in was because, as your mother, I have my own right to worry about what my son gets into, even after he is out of the house. All I pray for is your safety and happiness, and it is my obligation to be there for your success."

My chest heaved as I fought a losing battle to hold back more tears than there needed to be. One glance into my eyes told her all she needed to know, and Mom took me in a gentle grasp at first to test my acceptance. Like dominoes, it all came tumbling down to earth, and I grabbed her tighter than the day I returned from Camp Wallop. It was then where my walls crumbled, and I bawled into her shoulder as she stroked a lock of my dark blue mane.

Anypony walking past would have given us funny looks, but neither of us paid mind to it. This was the reassurance I needed more than anything else at the moment.

"I-I love you, Mom," I whispered shakily, sniffing in hard afterward in failed attempt to clear runny nostrils.

"I love you most, my brave, beautiful Anchorage..." she uttered back softly, nuzzling into my cheek and kissing it as she broke our embrace to smile warmly at me.

She turned some as if to walk back inside. "Now, let's go back in there. I am sure that nice stallion has some paperwork for me to fill out for you."

I responded with a slow, quiet nod, following closely as she re-entered the office. There were questions to be had, for sure, particularly due to the sudden addition of red, puffy eyes and wet mats of fur from streams of tears on our cheeks.

I didn't care what he asked. My dream was one step closer to coming true.

⚓

The day was here at last. In the final hours of my time home, Mom and I spent every moment of it reminiscing over our life as a family; the good, the bad, and everything in between. Much of this came from a quick retrieval of a rather thick photo album archiving as many occasions as possible through photography, dating back as far as my parents' wedding day, up to my sixteenth birthday. Since then, it has yet to be updated.

Why hasn't it? Two words; Dad's absence. Neither of us have so much as lifted the family camera, fearing it may diminish the album's value to heart. That was to change, according to Mom's word. She wanted to document my graduation from boot camp, every second of it and every increment of time in between.

With the day officially coming to a somber close, I offered Mom the comfort of taking care of her chores while she turns in for the night. In the time after finishing up, I took a few minutes to glance over the picture frames hung up on our walls throughout the house, and took in the scents and sights that I am sure to long for over the next couple of months.

On my way up to bed, I stopped in my tracks upon setting my sights on a solid white door to the right of the landing, camouflaging itself behind a hoof-crafted rotting wood sign with metal caps on both ends, turned over to cover what it read.

Something outside of my control told me to take a close look at the door and this sign, and to flip it over back to the way it once hung. Slowly I reached up, taking the bottom of the sign and gently turning it to face me. A stinging pain pulsed through my chest to read over these words again, and they were; Dad's Hideout. Enter at own risk!

Of course it meant that for humor sake, knowing he never truly cared who entered past the door. Lowering my gaze to the knob, I took it, twisted, and pulled outward to open, and met with total darkness.

I stared blankly down into the pitch black abyss that the creaky wooden stairs carried down into. Flicking the light switch, I almost didn’t expect for the space below to brighten. Since Dad’s passing, neither myself nor Mom dared venture into his old stallioncave in the basement, where his radio equipment sat, collecting dust.

Like every other item down here, two years worth of neglect were beginning to show. It was cold down here, too; much colder than the norm. Perhaps that part was just me however, or it was the lingering energy of his spirit floating around, if ghosts truly are real. I could neither deny nor believe in their existence, or a realm plane beyond our own for that matter. Maybe that was just my own self doubt speaking for itself.

I drew in a breath, taking in the mildly musty scent of the basement, gaze drifting from left to right across the desk with his old equipment, to the lounge chairs and circular area rug beneath the perfectly centered wooden coffee table that once belonged to my grandparents and still to this day remained in pristine condition, dust aside.

The longer I stood down here, the deeper the ache drove into my soul. This all belonged to him, dating back as far as the day Command allowed him to live off-base when he was stationed in Chicoltgo for a short period during his non-active duty years, and the time spent learning every aspect there is to becoming an officer. By that time he had known Mom for a few months preceding boot camp, and the blossoming of their relationship led them to eventually settle down in Winneighpeg, where they had me.

Funny how it comes full circle to me. This was my last full day home. Come tomorrow morning, following a final meetup with my recruiters at the processing station to collect necessary documentation, it will be a long travel day to the boot camp north of Chicoltgo. A five-hour ferry ride, followed by another jaunt to Alderneigh Airport where I would catch a two hour flight as my journey’s final leg. After that point, I will be a new stallion, set on a track to become an Equestrian Sailor.

Giving one last glance at the living room, I rounded the staircase to retreat to my room for the night. With my nerves as high as they were, how I would receive sufficient sleep tonight to not be deliriously exhausted is beyond me.

Author's Note:

Fun fact: this entire chapter takes heavy inspiration from my real life regarding joining the Navy. The recruiting office bit is taken directly from my experience visiting a recruiter, and while later on it doesn't completely mirror experiences with my mother but if things were different and I had not previously announced my plans to enlist, I picture this is how it would go.