My Army Brother!!

I misssssssssssssss yooooooouuuuuuuuuu Brooooooooooooooo

          

Morning is just breaking. There's a little house in the glade. Hills rise behind it, the trees and grass are wet with morning dew. The sun is shining softly, filtering through the trees and their spring buds in gold and green tones. The house is a simple brown. It's not a dull brown though, like the leather of a worn-out shoe, but warm and welcoming, like hot chocolate in the winter. There is love inside and outside the small house. Children's bicycles are leaned carelessly against a swing set in the yard. A garden surrounds the wooden porch. A carefully set garden with lilies, roses, daffodils, pansies, lavender, mint, and a colorful array of plants. Two wooden chairs sit overlooking a well-kept yard.
Inside, there's children sleeping. A little boy and a little girl. The little boy's room is littered with toy guns and soldiers. He was playing war, just like his daddy. He is smiling as he slumbers, his light brown hair tousled by the crisp pillow, his small hands clutching a stuffed dog his daddy got him for his birthday.
Across the hall, his little sister is sleeping too. Her room is cleaner, her dolls and play clothes sitting in a wicker basket against the lavender walls. Her lacy white comforter is pushed to the end of the bed and she's sleeping in her little blue nightgown, holding her dolly close, a finger curling her dark brown hair.
And in the room at the end of the hall, their mother is waking. The clock on the wall says seven. She crawls out of the bed her husband shares with her and gets dressed, pulling her light brown hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. Her wedding ring shines on her finger, and though the diamond is small, it glows with brilliance unparallel because it was given in love. She kisses it softly and a smile lights her face. She creeps to her son's room, then jumps on his bed.
"Wake up! Wake up! Daddy's coming home today!" she says delightfully.
Her son rolls over and groans.
"Wake up Jasper! Daddy's coming home."
He shoots up out of bed.
"Daddy's coming home?" he says, daring to hope.
"YES!"
Jasper jumps up and down on his bed, whooping and cheering. Her daughter walks in, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
"Daddy's coming home?"
"Yes, Dizzy. Daddy's coming home."
She picks up Dizzy and Jasper, swinging them around in circles and singing. Cereal and fruit are for breakfast. She's doing the dishes. Dizzy and Jasper are playing in the living room. The dishes are drying. She hears something. It's the truck! The children gasp and shriek. Mother and children run outside. The little boy an girl aren't even properly dressed! Daddy's home! He's back! The green truck drives away, leaving him in the driveway. Dizzy and Jasper laugh and run to him. He drops his duffel bag and picks them up, swinging them around and around, laughing and smiling and tickling them with his whiskers. She stands back, tears in her eyes. He stands in his khaki uniform, adorned with honors that are now forgotten. He puts the children down and whispers to them he needs a minute with Mommy. They hug him and say "I love you Daddy" and run inside. She laughs and finally gets her turn, running to him. She kisses his whole face and cries into his shoulder. He smells different, like gunpowder, but his embrace is still familiar. He kisses her sweetly and holds her close…

But now the image is fading. She is sitting in her bedroom, re-reading the letter from him. No, today is not the day. Tears still stream down her face. He is not coming home today…