It’s What Happens Afterwards
He had been home now for three weeks. I knew the things he saw and did over
there were terrible, but he wouldn’t speak of them. Not to me, not to anyone. I
felt like I was walking on eggshells, afraid to say the wrong thing or do the
wrong thing and afraid that if I even thought the wrong thing, he’d know.
The small town was usually quiet, something he needed right then and was
thankful for. I could only imagine the noise he had come home from. The
incessant thunder of the guns and bombs, men, his men, yelling, crying, moaning
and all wondering why they were there in that God awful place.
I thought it was getting better, the nightmares, but if they’re still
nightmares, are they any better. I think not, I know not.
He lay beside me in our bed. The sounds, those mournful sounds of pain, both
physical and emotional awake me again. I wanted to touch him, hold him, and let
him know everything would be okay, that I was there for him, but I was afraid.
So I just listened and wiped my cheek with the sheet when my tears started.
The darkness surrounded me as my eyes flew open. It took a second to realize it
was just the fire alarm from the station down the road that had disturbed my
sleep. I was used to it. I’d lived there for over a year, but it was always
loudest in the still of the night.
I felt a movement on the other side of the bed and he was up. The door was open
in the heat of the summer night, letting a cool breeze blow into the room. The
screen door must have felt like prison bars to him as he tore through the door.
He was out before I could react.
“Incoming, incoming,” he yelled as he ran to the back of the yard and hunched
down behind the doghouse we no longer had need of, but couldn’t bear to get rid
of.
I was at his side, trying to convince him that there was no danger, that ‘they’
were no longer a danger to him, that he was home with someone who loved him.
I finally got him back into the house and into our bed. This time, I did hold
him. I felt his heartbeat and listened to him breathe. I thanked God that he was
home, but I knew it wasn’t the end.
War did awful things to people and it would take time to heal.
But it would happen.