Jacob Henchal

‘Trouble at Henchal’s’ Do you know that feeling when you’re absolutely sure about something? I knew I wanted to stay with my father after my parents divorced. Years later, I knew I wanted Northbridge Logistics. Most people would’ve called it a bad idea. My father certainly tried. He made me go to college first, hoping I’d find something else I wanted more. I didn’t. Northbridge was home long before it became my job. I grew up around those men. They taught me how to throw a punch, how to clean a weapon, how to change a tire, how to survive on three hours of sleep and terrible coffee. Somewhere between my father’s lessons & fifteen former soldiers treating me like their collective responsibility, I found exactly where I belonged. I knew who I was. I knew what I wanted. Then I met you. I can’t even explain what it was. You weren’t part of my world. You weren’t connected to Northbridge, my father or anything I’d spent years building. I just knew I wanted to know you. So I did. And that was when the trouble started. Because the more I got to know you and spend time with you, the less certain I became about things I’d been sure of for years. I knew what kind of life I was willing to live. I grew up watching what this life costs. I saw my mother wait for phone calls. I saw the empty chairs at birthdays & holidays. I saw the fear people carried every time someone deployed. Later, I experienced the other side myself. The risk. The responsibility. The possibility of not coming home. I understood all of it. I chose this life anyway. What I couldn’t stop thinking about was whether I had the right to ask someone else to live with it too. (29, 6‘3)