Going Home, part 3

Family.

What an odd concept.

I'm leaving the only
family I've known for
the past 2 years, to go
see the one I grew up
with.

Yet another fear.

I no longer know that
family.

Worse, they no longer
know me.

Another tarmac.
Another urge to vomit.

I supress it.
I see them.
I steel myself.

My dad is first. He looks
me up and down.
My dress greens are im-
maculate.

He reaches out to shake
my hand.

I hold out the stripes taken
from me.

He looks at the E-4 rank on
my greens.

He sobs and hugs me.

I drop the stripes and hug him.

We both cry.

A small part of me is Home.



Addendum:
My dad knew, before I got back,
but admitted he didn't want to
believe it.

To this day, it's not spoken of.

Regards,
Lex

Although not responding, ive been reading all of your stories...for the simple reason that they are easy to read. You seem to know how low the attention-span of the average ATS reader is so youve achieved to find a style that compresses intense emotion and meaningfulness into just a few words rather than senselessly drawing things out.

Lex..Starred and flagged..for the courage to post.Yes..courage is not the absence of fear..but acting in spite of it.
I agree with Skyfloating..(Wow!)
You need very few words to get your point across.
Complete raw emotion.
Keep writing.
As will I.I can do that ..now.