“Ricky opened his mouth and started to say something but his voice cracked. He closed his mouth. He then reopened it and then closed it again. He took a deep breath and then he stepped back and wiped his face again.”

“Esteban took a step backwards and took his sweatshirt off. He folded it and placed it on the ground next to the wall. He looked like a matador preparing for a bullfight. I opened my mouth and almost said something...”

“Somewhere, there is a Moatengator trained to kill you. He was trained with minimal food, water or sleep. He was trained day and night to think, to lead, and to survive under conditions so extreme, you might find them comical. He learned more about himself and camaraderie on his first trip into the jungle than most men learn in a lifetime. The only thing clean on him is his weapon. He doesn't worry about what workout to do - his ruck weighs what it weighs. His runs ends when it ends. This Moatengator is not concerned about 'how hard it is;' he knows either he wins or he may die and so may his Brothers. He doesn't go home at 17:00, he is always at home. He knows only the jungle, his rifle and the Moatengator brotherhood.”

“. I can still see Ricky on that roof... the sunlight shining in his round dark eyes, eyes dark as the onyx stones on my mother’s silver bracelet. His shiny black hair was matted and shoulder-length. I wondered who cut his hair. My grandmother cut mine.”

“When I see the full blue sky, with all its vastnesss, its as if He is telling me 'All this is yours and all of this comes back to me. Please take care of all of this, because I want to use it again and again and again. But while you are here, it is yours. Please enjoy it.”

“Who was that, dear?" I heard his mother's voice. "It was that dumb “wetback” kid," was his reply.”

“For just as I am certain of God and His existence, I am equally certain that one day we will meet... or meet again. And that will be a wonderful day!”