I stepped down from the cab, walking slowly behind him, feeling the familiar gravel crunching beneath my boots. Thirty-two years in the Navy, and I had sailed across every ocean on the globe—yet standing here beside my son on the edge of the American continent felt like the only voyage that had ever truly mattered.
Jason turned around, walking back toward me with a quiet, steady resolve in his eyes. “My leg of the trip ends here, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I nodded. “You’ve got a job back in Norfolk. Bills to pay down. A life to rebuild.”
“What about you?”
I looked out toward the western horizon where the sun was beginning its slow descent toward the water, casting a golden pathway across the waves. “I think I’ll take the coastal highway all the way down to San Diego. Visit some old shipmates. Maybe stop by a few more diners your mother marked in her atlas.”
Jason smiled, walked over, and gave me a hug that was strong, honest, and unreserved. “Drive safe, Chief.”
“Always do,” I said.
