Dear John

Savannah Curtis: Randy, you shouldn’t make fun of a guy that can kill you with his bare hands. – Savannah

John Tyree: Our story has 3 parts a beginning, a middle and an end and although this is the way all stories unfold I still cant believe ours didn't go on forever.

Savannah:
Dear John,
Two weeks together, that's all it took. Two weeks for me to fall in love with you. Now we have one year apart. But what's one year apart after two weeks like that together. You made me a promise, a promise I know you'll keep. So I only want one more promise from you during this time we spend apart. Tell me everything, write it all down, John. Scribble it in a notebook, type it out, email it to me. That way, before we know it, I'll see you soon then.

Savannah Curtis: The saddest people I've ever met in life are the ones who don't care deeply about anything at all.

John Tyree: It doesn't matter where you are in the world, it's never bigger than your thumb.

John Tyree: It's a full moon tonight that makes me think of you, half a world away.

Savannah: We'll be with each other all the time, even if we're not together at all.

John: I miss you so much it hurts.

Rock ‘em and sock ‘em. – Randy

Did you ever notice how big the moon is as it’s rising, and how little it is in the sky? – Savannah

For the record, if you do anything to hurt Savannah, I’m gonna have to break something, something in your leg, one of the bones in there. It’s just that I know her father and he would expect me to say something like that, it just sounded better coming from him. – Tim

There’s a never-ending stream of curse words in my mind. – Savannah

The way people act around you, like the way they treated you at that restaurant, its like they’re scared of you. – Savannah

They’re not scared of me. Maybe afraid of who I used to be. – John

Dear savannah,
I promise. I promise I’ll see you soon, then. I promise I’ll write all the time. I promise I’ll tell you everything. Be patient with me it may take a while for these letters to get back to you. We’ve already been deployed on a mission. The problem is, we can’t exactly use the local postal service and there’s no such thing as an Internet connection. So I have to send everything out by air. Unfortunately I can’t tell you where here is, all I can tell you is that the place where we’ve been sent makes me miss America very much, and the lack of anything resembling an ocean makes me miss Charleston. And everything around me makes me miss you. We move around a lot so letters tend to come late and out of order, so we may want to number our letters so we get them in the right order. But when they do get here, it’s a good day. Whenever they don’t, it’s not. But I know they will still come. I know it.

Letter #8
Dear John,
I’m back at my parents’ house for the weekend. I have some houseguests you may know. I took Allen out riding with me today; it was his first time on a horse. You’ve heard of horse sense, how some horses are able to sense danger, sense that evil. Well, I think autistic kids have that too, so, I have this idea, this dream. I want to open up a summer camp for autistic kids, a place where they can ride horses as much as they want. For once in their life where they won’t have to worry about a thing. What do you think? Pipe dream, huh?

No, it’s not a pipe dream. It’s a perfect dream. - John
Letter #33
Dear Savannah,
The good news is we’ve been sent somewhere new. Although I can’t tell you where that is either. The bad news is, this place actually makes me miss the old place. But it’s a full moon tonight, which makes me think of you, because I know no matter what I’m doing or where I am, this moon will always be the same size as yours, half a world away.

Dear John,
Most nights I fall asleep worrying about you, wondering where you may be out there. Not tonight. Tonight you’re here with me. I visited your dad yesterday. Summer’s almost over and I wanted to see him before I went back to school. I hope that’s okay. He made me dinner, it was Sunday so we had lasagna and I got him talking about his coins. So we had plenty of conversation. So I’ll ask you instead John, wherever you may be. What’s the story?

Dear Savannah,
Only because I promise to tell you everything. When I was seven years old, I bought an ice cream cone. On my way home, I noticed that one of the pennies wasn’t actually a penny. Remember the horse sense you were talking about? Well my dad has it too. At first I loved chasing after those mules with my father. We finally had something to talk about. You know, something we could do together. But he became obsessed with them, and you know how he is. And then I became a teenager, and you know how I am. Eventually he stopped talking about coins with me altogether and when that happened we found out that there wasn’t that much to talk about together. So that’s the story. I miss you so much.

I bench press refrigerators. – Savannah’s dad

Well, I guess, the worse thing you could say about your father is that he tried to protect you too much. That’s a pretty good father, isn’t it? – Tim

None of the soldiers I know need to be asked, sir. And we sure as hell don’t need to be told. – John


Dear John,
I know it’s been way too long since I last wrote you. I’ve been staring at this blank page for the last two hours. Well, to be honest, I’ve been staring at it for the last two months. Please forgive me for what I’m about to say and know that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My life without you has no meaning and I cannot live without it.

Oh, Jesus, I never loved a piece of clothing more in my entire life. - Soldier


Dear Dad,
There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. Remember a few years back, when I got shot, you know, the very first thing that entered my mind at that moment, right before I blacked out. Coins. Suddenly I was 8 years old again, was on that tour of the U.S. mint and I was listening to the guy explain how coins were made, how they punch that sheet metal, how they are rimmed, and beveled, how they are stamped and cleaned. And how each batch of coins is personally examined just in case any of them slipped thru with the slightest infraction. You remember that Dad, that trip to Philadelphia we took. Well that’s what popped into my head. I am a coin, of the United States Army. I was minted the year 1980. I was punched thru sheet metal; I’ve been stamped and cleaned. My edges have been rimmed and beveled. But now I have two small holes in me. So I’m no longer in perfect condition. How about it? We’re just a couple of coins, you know. There’s one more thing that I want to tell you too. After I got shot, right before I blacked out, you want to know the very last thing I thought of, was you.

Just hearing your voice, I would have changed my mind. – Savannah

Dear John,
It’s been almost five years since I’ve wrote an actual letter with an actual pen on an actual sheet of paper, but I thought I could write you now and tell you all that’s happened since I saw you last. A few weeks after you showed up here, Tim received an anonymous donation. A donation that was enough to give him what the insurance company wouldn’t. Time. Time to finally come home. Time to spend with his son. Time to say goodbye. The problem with time I’ve learned, whether it was those first two weeks I got to spend with you, or those final two months I got to spend with him, eventually time always runs out. I have no idea where you are out there in the world, John, but I understand that I lost the right to know these things a long time ago. No matter how many years go by, I know one thing to be as true as it ever was. I’ll see you soon then.