When you've been in the fight as long as I have, you tend to garner a lot of titles. I'm usually the last thing my enemies see, an immovable one-person army. To allies, though, they think I'm some symbol who can do anything, more myth than man. I once chained myself to those markers, something I'll never do again. Because no matter what warzone I'm in, it doesn't change my identity. I'm still a man, a father, and most importantly, James.

And right now, I'm dealing with a family chore: spring cleaning in summer. Maybe it's the soldier in me talking, but I could never stand an untidy area. Lily, the little light of my life, was starting to get older, meaning I had started shifting some old stuff into the shed. Thankfully though, I had the best partner a guy could ask for.

I probably would've gotten more stuff done without her, but who would want to pass up the chance to sneak a couple more glances at their spouse? Between reorganizing some bygone trinkets, I couldn't help but stand in awe at her. Rays of afternoon summer sunshine peeked through the small gaps around us, making her dirty blonde topknot shine an alluring glimmer along her silk-colored skin.

The overall small space reminded me of how she was the only woman who surpassed my 6'2. Swirling dust from every upturned nook and cranny made her adorable emerald eyes flutter. Combined with her white shirt and underneath denim overalls, it felt like I was working with an angel. One I could stare at all day. But, before my trance could persist, my wife pulled me back out.

"Are you sure you want to throw all this away?" she said empathetically.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly be doing this if I wasn't sure, Margaret," I said amusingly.

"I know. I know. It's just that I thought you would want more of your grandfather's stuff, considering how you talk about him," she said thoughtfully.

Margaret was right, though. I know it's cliche, but when other kids had Spiderman or Superman as their heroes, I unironically had my grandfather: Abraham Cormac. Whenever my parents were busy with work, he was always there to help. Over the years, he taught me how to hunt game in the forest, sometimes even wasting a day for that critical moment.

His enthusiasm for boxing/wrestling was also incredibly infectious, with me often staying up half the night trying to copy the moves of Joe Luis and Hulk Hogan. What originally was a way to get closer to him later evolved into skills that saved lives. Frankly, I don't even know if I would be the man I am today without him.

Though I guess the same could be said for "them." Suddenly, a fragmented memory pierced through the front of my mind. Like a yoyo, my surroundings instantly flashed towards rubble and brimstone, only to jolt me about twice as quickly. The brief distraction messed me over as an incoming baseball+ rapidly darted towards a box above.

Instinctively my wife jolted, trying to warn me, but there was no need. Without thinking, I grabbed the falling and leveled my foot against the falling box, though it still tilted just enough for some of its contents to spill out. The perpetrator sheepishly tiptoed into our view: a five-year-old girl with brown hair and gray-green heterochromatic eyes. Margaret tried entering her mom mode, but I intervened.

"Let me handle this," I said while putting the box aside.

Lovingly I approached with the ball in hand, as the girl adopted a cute but still very much guilty smile. Still, I remind myself of being incredibly strong despite this, crouching down with sterner eyes and saying.

"Lily, what did I tell you about throwing the ball near the shed?"

"Not to do it, Daddy."

"Because why?"

"Because it could hurt someone, Daddy."

"Now, what do you say?"

"Sorry, Daddy," she said with genuine regret.

Immediately I dropped the act, handing the ball to my daughter and telling her.

"Go bring that back inside. Mommy and Daddy are nearly done here.

Maybe after that, we can play catch some. Okay?"

"Promise?" she said with eyes that I swear were starting to twinkle.

"Promise," I say while wrapping my pinkies around here.

She then happily sprinted back into the house, probably off to make another mess. Amidst trying to repack the thrown-out objects, Margaret gave me a stern look.

"You're always so lenient to her," she said offhandedly.

"I know, but when your job includes getting shot weekly, you tend not to sweat the small stuff," I said while getting closer.

Before I could get a judgemental stare from Margaret, a new item appeared from the corner of my eye. Flippantly, I grabbed above to see a medium-sized brown journal with a rough leather-like covering. In faded-out red marker, there was a lamented title saying "Bucket List."

From there, curiosity took me over as I flipped through several pages, starting slow before ramping up in speed. Then, through dozens of checkboxes and lists, a couple of entries began to take a life of their own, spurred on by warm reminiscences.

"Took me over a year of saving to make the trip to Boston safely and even longer to train for the damn thing. But once I found my feet flying off the blacktop. Didn't regret anything."

"I still never forgave my friend for pushing me off. I swear I nearly fainted from the shock, which is not ideal while being 10k feet up. Still, I won't lie and say that the view on the way down was one of a kind."

Your Grandma is the most patient woman alive for dealing with my nonsense. However, I always wanted to get married at Niagara Falls when I was your age."

Those little stories fluttered within my heart, realizing I had somehow stumbled upon my heroes' autobiography.

"You okay there, James?" Margaret said while putting up the last box.

"Yeah, it's just never seen this before. Grandpa would always talk about some of his adventures. Didn't realize he had this many, though," I said through misty eyes.

"Guess your old man was big on carpe diem." Margaret said while looking over my shoulder," said with a hint of sentimentality.

"Carpe diem?" I said confusedly.

"It's Latin for seizing the day. Doing all you can and what not."

Despite only now hearing the word, its meaning instantly resonated with me, especially in the line of work I deal in. An inspired smile started to control my face. One Margaret took notice of.

"Hey, why don't you take the book?" she said lovingly.

"You sure? I don't know if-"

"Look, take it from a therapist. Moving on is important. But having a momento or two wouldn't be the worst idea. Besides, Lily doesn't need more toys," she said humorously.

That only made my smile bigger as I made my thanks known through a small kiss on the shoulder. After we loaded everything up, the day seemed to race behind me, fixating on a treasure far more precious than gold. Even while my wife slept ideally, a rush of inspiration took hold while ruffling through the empty pages bursting with potential.

With the constant hustle of life, I think we get trapped thinking of what we could do forever. As much as I love it, that goes doubly so for Titan. Keeping peace around the world 24/7 will do that to you. Still, I know from painful experiences that things don't go on forever. Nothing is guaranteed, and nothing is sacred. Every day could be our last.