Eight-year-old Evan stood on the pier with his mom, the morning sun bouncing off the gray hull of his dad’s Navy ship. The air smelled like salt and metal, and the deck buzzed with sailors getting ready to go. Evan gripped his mom's hand tightly, his small sneakers scuffing against the weathered wood as he watched the organized chaos. Daddy, a tall sailor in crisp Navy Dress Blues, knelt so they were eye to eye. "You know I’m proud of you, right?" he said, straightening Evan's ball cap with gentle fingers. Evan nodded, even though his chest felt tight like a knotted rope. All around them, families hugged their sailors — sailors carrying gear, sailors checking their uniforms, sailors waving to kids in strollers. Evan noticed something: every kid looked a little sad, but also a little brave. Just like him.
Mom, with her comforting smile and wind-tousled hair, squeezed Evan's shoulder. "See? Lots of families do this. And they get through it together. Your daddy's strong, and so are we — we'll count the days, make crafts, and wait for his letters or calls when the signal allows. It'll be our special time to grow even closer as a team." Daddy pointed to the ship’s mast, its flags fluttering softly in the breeze. "When I’m out there, we’ll still talk. Maybe not every day, but some days. And we’ll make our own game to bridge the ocean between us — something just for you and me to share under the same sky." Evan, eyes wide with curiosity amid the tightening lump in his throat, tilted his head. "What kind of game?"
Daddy smiled, his eyes twinkling like distant lights. "Every night, look up at the brightest star you can find. I’ll look for it too, no matter where the ship takes me across the vast seas. When you see it, think of me saying, ‘Goodnight, buddy. I love you more than all the stars combined. That way, we’re never too far apart, connected by that one shining star in the endless night sky." A sharp whistle blew, slicing through the murmurs. Sailors started heading up the gangway. Daddy hugged Evan tight — the kind of hug that made Evan feel strong instead of small. "I’m just going on an adventure," Daddy whispered into Evan's ear, his uniform rough against Evan's cheek. "You’re going to be a part of it, even from home — be brave for Mommy, help around the house, and know I'm cheering for you every step."
Evan watched Daddy walk up the ramp and join his shipmates — some laughing heartily, some waving broadly, all wearing their Navy Dress Blue uniforms. They looked ready. They looked confident. And suddenly, Evan felt a little of that confidence too, swelling in his chest like a rising tide. As the ship pulled away, Evan lifted his hand high and waved with all his might. "See you soon, Daddy!" he shouted, voice carrying over the water's lap and the ship's distant rumble.
Mom wrapped her arm around Evan, pulling him close against the sea breeze. "We’ve got this, champ. We'll make dinners together, read your favorite books, and every night we'll find that star as a family ritual. You're my brave little sailor now, and Daddy will be so proud when he hears how strong you've been." Evan leaned into her, the tightness in his chest easing just a bit. And Evan believed her, the ship's silhouette a promise on the waves.
That night, Evan found the brightest star in the sky, its light piercing the darkness with steady reassurance. He stood by the window, ball cap still on his head, whispering into the cool night air. "Goodnight, Daddy. I see you."
