Letter to Myself

*Note to readers: I do not do edits, I write rough drafts and post them, with minor edits for spell check and grammatical errors. I find that when you edit a paper such as this, you take out the emotion and some of the punch of the article. There may be inaccuracies, but they are all mine, and I don't really care, because this is more therapy for me that it is reading for you. I just feel like sharing these. With that being said, enjoy.*

Letter to Myself

To Loran Hatfield, 18, King of the World

You may not know who I am, but I am Loran Hatfield, 23, Humbled by Life. I just wanted to drop this letter to you, letting you know what you're in for. I know you're 18 and think that you're tough shit and know everything. You have it all planned out, know exactly how life is going to pan out for you. I have some bad news for you, though: life is going to throw you some curve balls.

1- You're going to screw up. Soon. You're going to get to OU, think that since you have a full ride that college is going to be a cake walk. Beer and the frat house will seem a lot cooler than that 8 o'clock math class. They may very well be, but the math teacher takes attendance. Oh, and she counts it towards your grade. Going to screw the pooch on that one, let me tell ya. That screw up will lead up to the next curve ball life is going to throw at you.

2- You're 19, failing college that you can't afford to pay for and looking for a way out. The Oklahoma National Guard is about to deploy to Iraq. You have your out, make a few phone calls, next thing you know you're in Ada, OK with all your gear reporting to your new unit. They tell you to be back in a few weeks, so you head back up to Joplin, MO and make the smartest mistake you have ever made. You marry your high school sweetheart. In retrospect, it isn't really a mistake, just maybe not the smartest thing to have done. But let me tell you what, that will be the beginning of your crowning achievement. But I'll get to that later. I digress, however, so let’s get back to Iraq. There will be a picture of you posted on Facebook, a 19 year old kid, decked out in full battle rattle on a C-130. The look on your face will say it all: you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. You find out Iraq isn't that bad, you like it, you volunteer to extend. You get stationed in Kuwait. It’s going to be the greatest nine month vacation of your life. You like that, so you decide to extend again. Afghanistan this time, first time you've seen snow in two years. You realize that being away from home and your newlywed wife for two years is a little ridiculous. You decide that enough is enough and you want to go home. You realize war isn't so bad, that people don't always die in war. You will be insulated from the harsh realities of the war and the world. Enjoy your time of innocence.

3- You'll get home from Afghanistan and be a newlywed couple that just happens to have celebrated your two year anniversary six months earlier. You're going to do newlywed type stuff, and before you know it, you're going to be buying pregnancy tests. They're positive. You are going to be a father at 22. You are an idiot and volunteer for another deployment when she's only three months pregnant. Big mistake there, but we'll get to that later. You're going to get a real job, a great one, at a place you've never heard of, but has great fringe benefits, mostly really cheap cheese, and you're going to get fat off of all the cheese. The months will fly by, and before you know it, you're going to be sitting in a hospital on December 3, 2010. There's a complication with natural birth, so they decide to do a caesarian section. You're going to take a picture of yourself before you go into the OR, and upon looking at the picture afterwards, you're going to realize that you were scared shitless. There's a pattern emerging here with that one. Soon, however, you hear that cry that will break your heart. You may shed a tear or two, I'll let you figure out the count on your own, but you are going to immediately realize that your life is forever changed. It will never again be the same. That little redhead will be the center of your universe for the rest of your life.

4- You're going to meet your biological father. It's going to be creepy. On December 4, 2010, at 2 in the morning, you're going to get a Facebook message from some guy named Frank Couch saying he needs to talk to you. He's going to tell you he's your father and then he's going to tell you he has cancer. You're going to meet him, realize that it's pretty obvious he's your father, and still make him buy a DNA test. You're going to realize that even though you thought you never wanted to know your biological father, you'll be glad when it happens. You may even consider naming your next son after him. I don't know how that one works out, so I'll write you another letter in a few years. Your biological father will spoil your family, buying you awesome gifts like home brew kits, sending your son and wife so much stuff that the Fed-Ex and UPS guys know your wife and don't even bother asking for ID. You're going to call him Dad on Christmas of 2011, immediately wondering what you did that for and wondering if you'll ever be able to do it again. Once again, I'll let you know. Life is good, and you're finally enjoying what you have.

5- Don't enjoy it too much. You're going to Afghanistan in a few months. You're going to tell yourself not to get attached. You're going to fail at not getting attached. You're going to shed more than a few tears when you hand him to your wife and step into the armory, knowing it could be six months to a year before you see him again. You'll fly out of the states in June, enjoying a few beers in Manas, a few weeks at Bagram, then you'll land at your final destination in Afghanistan. You're going to realize real quickly that your three previous deployments were a fluke. Your battalion will lose eight soldiers in two months. You're going to question your decision to come on this deployment, you'll question your motives for it, but in the end you'll realize that the decision has been made and you just need to suck it up.

6- Today is Sunday, February 19, 2012. You're less than a month from going home and wondering what home is really like. You did the math today and realize that you have been married for four years, four months. You've been home for one year, three months of that. You don't know your wife, you don't know your son and you don't know what home is. I've come to the same conclusion you will in five years. There is no reason to sweat it. It will be what it will be, and everything will work out fine. Your son will love you. Might take a bottle and diaper change or two, but he'll realize who you are. He already leaves chocolate kiss prints on your wife's phone. Hopefully he'll realize that you're the guy in the phone and kiss you. If not, you've got a phone. He'll come around. Your wife will tell you how much you've changed, and you'll know she's right. My only hope is when she says that, she means you've changed for the good. Time will tell. With that, I end this letter and hope that it prepares you for the future.