She stood on the high clift, staring out over the ocean. The sun had begun to set, lighting the sky deep shades of oranges and pinks, like wildflowers in May. The birds were heading to their nest for the night, and soon the night critters will be out and about. But for now, she just smiled at the scenery before her.
Her uniform was neat and as dark blue as the sky toward midnight. Her dark, strawberry blond hair pulled up in a tight bun; that was shining in the setting sun. She was heroic and brave in her uniform, and without it she felt vulnerable to the world. Her dark, brown eyes where sparkling as she thought of what tomorrow would bring to her.  
Tomorrow is going to be the first day in over three years she will get to see her family. She was exited, but nervous, for she was actually afraid. It has been the hardest, and the most challenging three years of her whole life. That crazy, ******, little-teenage-high school-girl was now a woman of her country; proud, formal, and hard working woman that has been trained to expect anything the world brings her, except this.
She will walk off the plane with a high, military step with metals clashing against each other. Her father will be proud, wanting stories, and exchanging stories himself of when he served. Step mother will want to fatten her up with pies, turkey, and green beans; Aunt will make special brownies. Her little sister comes home from school to find her in the living room with uniform on. Both girls will hug and cry and cry into each others shoulders. Everything will be perfect: food, laughs, hugs, and pigs-skin. All making memories.
But then she will have to leave. They drop her off at the airport, in uniform, and hugs, tears, and solutes will be passed around. These are the memories that will keep her going. Going until next time.
In ten years.