Dec 13 2007
What You Might Not Know
Slowly, they come home. This depressive war zeitgeist makes it difficult, if not impossible, for our soldiers to return to their former state of ataraxia. Duties done, horrors witnessed, loneliness endured, they fear that many of their brothers and sisters-in-arms will return home to find themselves welcomed with merely a lick and a promise of our nation’s concern, tied with a faded and tattered yellow ribbon.
The stress created by the soldiers’ praxis isn’t considered contraband when he or she flies the Freedom Flight. It returns, camouflaged on board despite the sapid relief that washes over rows of deployed ranks as the passage of miles brings each soldier closer to home. Their hands, held as semilunar shades against their faces, shake as they look through the windows, knowing their families are waiting inside the hangar.
Mantic spouses hope for the best, prepare for the worst, while children who have endured the long separation demonstrate remarkable serendipity. Stories of their adventures, discoveries and escapades have kept their military parents’ morale high, the emailed and handwritten retellings reminding soldiers of what it means to be innocent.
Within arms’ reach, and finally dismissed from duty, families are reunited, coming together to share embraces, tears, relief, and endearments as sweet as halva, as sweet as peace.
***This blog entry is for a writing contest I found via Scheiss Weekly, many thanks for the link Mamacita!***
Craftzine tries to keep waistlines whittled by offering a 
