As I read Dart’s letter, I recalled a childhood trip to the zoo. I remember standing for what seemed like hours, watching the majestic Bengal tiger pacing endlessly back and forth in his enclosure. His shoulder muscles taut and ready to spring. He never varied the cadence of his step, never paused to sniff the air, nor focus his eyes on a new view. Back and forth. Back and forth. Waiting for…what? Expecting what?

Dart’s letter reflects the same anticipation, the same tension. He is like a caged tiger, needing to be free, but finding no escape. Dart has collected all the required signatures for his leave. All that remains is an interview Wednesday morning with the Captain. So close. So hopeful. So unsure of the outcome.

His parting line is, “The approaching big moment eclipses everything but my desire to get home, to take you to your prom, to get well, not worse while I’m home.”

Dot’s letter reflects a similar nervous energy. She describes the plan her room mates have devised about how Dart will be greeted on Saturday night if he makes it home. It requires two escorts to help Dot navigate the stairs on her shaky legs.

“Dart, right now the thing I want most in life is for you to be here Saturday nite. If sincere prayers have much to do with it you should arrive sometime last week. I’ll try very hard not to be too disappointed if you don’t make it but I know darn well I’ll go to pieces.”