It is dark, very dark outside and will be for a few more hours. He asks if he may turn on the light and the news and I nod, I won’t be sleeping either. Just a few minutes ago my eyes fluttered open and I lay perfectly still as I do every morning while they adjust to the dark and I figure out where I am. My extensive travel of late has formed this habit, and it is priceless. Many a morning I have awakened and assumed I was one place, only to find myself in another. This causes much panic and anxiety for a moment when my foggy awakening brain struggles to catch up and assumes I have been kidnapped! or some other terrifying possibility before my memory falls into place.

We’re here. He’s ready. We both woke up long before the three alarms and wake up call were set to rouse us from the small and uncomfortable bed. He’s getting dressed. Real temperature is 18, wind-chill is 12 degrees and we take his attire very seriously. He layers up with gear bought for this very reason. We invested in the best; this is one of those times that his comfort and ability to carry on matter far more than saving a few bucks. I’m quite certain the high tech wool socks and wicking long underwear cost more than I spent on groceries in a month when I was scraping my way through law school. It’s all worth it, there are no second chances.

This is but the beginning, the first of many days where dawn won’t break until his physical stamina has been challenged to the upmost. Days when he’ll have to think faster than most ever will, and act with reflexes swifter than any of the rest of us will attain in a lifetime. Days when his mind will have to run through scenarios we couldn’t believe, and his observations skills will far outshine the most vigilant hawk. He’s done this before, he arose to the challenge where less than ten percent who enter ever reach the exit. He drove himself through where men - good men, strong men - have been left by the wayside. He has battled pain, fatigue, and then real live enemies, and real live injuries. He is tough as nails, and he stands in front of me, scarred, serious, and waiting.

He is older now, and it has been a few years since he had to live this life. I have never seen him wonder if he still can, his abilities are apt, and his grit intact. This won’t be as difficult as what he’s done before, and his motivation is stronger than ever. I’m so proud I fight the tears and tell him I believe in him. Nothing else matters, we know this is what he was born to do, and he will do it well. I prayed over him throughout the night, my hand gently resting on his shoulder. I look at it now, rounded and strong, and as my eye wanders upward it catches his gaze. We lock eyes.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”