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A Soldier Returns
I remember the day as if it were yesterday.
It was only a second.
A moment that flashed by my eye, only because turned my head slightly to the left, rather then the right.
And a saw a man, in army fatigues walking up the driveway of an apartment house.
Carrie Underwood's "Just A Dream" playing somewhere in the back of my mind.
As a mother, sister, wife or daughter answers this door to this man.
And he hands them a letter saying their father, brother, husband, or son has died while in battle.
That he will be remembered.
That he was a good man, good soldier, good friend.
That he fought for his country and that he, the messanger gives his deepest apologizes.
Tears break from my eyes: Those poor people. . . I pondered and leaned back in my seat.
That night as I wrote down my observation in my journal, more thoughts and words came out.
As I realized that maybe he wasn't a breaker of bad news, a messanger of disasters.
But what if he was the husband, son, brother, father returning from his duties.
Returning home to his family.
As they open the door and fall back a step, open arms and tears cry for the joy of him being back.
Being alive, their love, their son, their boy.
He has returned to them and their lives be may be revived.
Bring back from the stillness they have lived in since he was gone.
I smile at this new found thought.
Realizing that there were two outcomes to the man walking up the drive.
The man returning from war.
Or the messanger telling them their family member had died.
Either way, both start the same.
Ending in tears anyway.
Darkness reigns over one.
And happiness and new dawn shine from the other one.
And to think I wouldn't have thought of that.
I wouldn't have had this story to tell.
If instead of looking to the right.
I looked left.
And saw it with my own eyes.
Of how a solider returning can have such a huge impact on my mind.
A man I do not know.
Delivering horrible news of a friend and fellow comrade in battle that he has died while serving for his country.
Or returning from that war torn nightmare to his smiling and happy family.
Bring him back to childhood days long ago of innocence and things I'll never know.
I do not know this man, if he lived or died.
But I thought of him all the same.
He still crosses my mind, this moment, this glimpse to my left in time.
Passing by a house just down the street from mine.
I guess it shows me to look with my heart instead of my eyes.
Because I did for second and this story has stayed with me for some time.
Filling my heart with sorrow or joy.
It's been years since that day.
And the journal is lost with my words of that moment in time.
I don't live in that house no more.
And I never found out who that man was, that one that I saw.
I never knew by I imagined it all the same.
Whether it is sad or happy.
Whether the truth is comforting or burns.
I thought of the story all the same.
About when a soldier returns.
Written for the "Opposite Catergories" Competition and is technically both Observational & Story.
It was only a second.
A moment that flashed by my eye, only because turned my head slightly to the left, rather then the right.
And a saw a man, in army fatigues walking up the driveway of an apartment house.
Carrie Underwood's "Just A Dream" playing somewhere in the back of my mind.
As a mother, sister, wife or daughter answers this door to this man.
And he hands them a letter saying their father, brother, husband, or son has died while in battle.
That he will be remembered.
That he was a good man, good soldier, good friend.
That he fought for his country and that he, the messanger gives his deepest apologizes.
Tears break from my eyes: Those poor people. . . I pondered and leaned back in my seat.
That night as I wrote down my observation in my journal, more thoughts and words came out.
As I realized that maybe he wasn't a breaker of bad news, a messanger of disasters.
But what if he was the husband, son, brother, father returning from his duties.
Returning home to his family.
As they open the door and fall back a step, open arms and tears cry for the joy of him being back.
Being alive, their love, their son, their boy.
He has returned to them and their lives be may be revived.
Bring back from the stillness they have lived in since he was gone.
I smile at this new found thought.
Realizing that there were two outcomes to the man walking up the drive.
The man returning from war.
Or the messanger telling them their family member had died.
Either way, both start the same.
Ending in tears anyway.
Darkness reigns over one.
And happiness and new dawn shine from the other one.
And to think I wouldn't have thought of that.
I wouldn't have had this story to tell.
If instead of looking to the right.
I looked left.
And saw it with my own eyes.
Of how a solider returning can have such a huge impact on my mind.
A man I do not know.
Delivering horrible news of a friend and fellow comrade in battle that he has died while serving for his country.
Or returning from that war torn nightmare to his smiling and happy family.
Bring him back to childhood days long ago of innocence and things I'll never know.
I do not know this man, if he lived or died.
But I thought of him all the same.
He still crosses my mind, this moment, this glimpse to my left in time.
Passing by a house just down the street from mine.
I guess it shows me to look with my heart instead of my eyes.
Because I did for second and this story has stayed with me for some time.
Filling my heart with sorrow or joy.
It's been years since that day.
And the journal is lost with my words of that moment in time.
I don't live in that house no more.
And I never found out who that man was, that one that I saw.
I never knew by I imagined it all the same.
Whether it is sad or happy.
Whether the truth is comforting or burns.
I thought of the story all the same.
About when a soldier returns.
Written for the "Opposite Catergories" Competition and is technically both Observational & Story.
Published 22nd Jan 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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