5,205 days. 91 days. 9 days.
I woke early, thinking I had heard your voice. I couldn’t sleep after that.
Then glass shattered. Maybe, I did hear you after all.
Most days it’s easy to forget that my dad served 5 tours in Vietnam. Most days it’s easy, because he doesn’t talk about it a lot. Then there are the days when movies of war dominate the small screen, fireworks light up the sky, or a stranger throws a rock and it shatters a window, his window.
Those are the days when he becomes jumpy. Those are the days with period of him tuning me out, and I know he’s somewhere other than here. Those are the days when I get angry that there isn’t better care for our Veterans in this country.
To have this invasion of his privacy, on a day set aside to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice, like the friends who didn’t come home with him, is frustrating. It’s bad enough when neighbors ignore a simple request to not fire off fireworks right at his window, but now to have someone throwing rocks (a lot of them, at multiple windows, in multiple homes) it truly makes me wonder, what kind of world we are living in.
If you were here, I know what you would have done. I’m not that brave, I never was. For now, I’ll do my best to maintain the calm, but I still miss you. I still need you. Always.
Fractured Muse 
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