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In Memory Of
May. 24th, 2006 08:32 pmPrevious post.
May 30, 2011
The medallion was warm after being held in her hand. Thin, light and slightly tarnished. She'd have to polish it later. Chris leaned back in her chair, no longer under the warm sun. From here she had a view of the courtyard and the pool. She could hear the indistinct conversations of people at the pool, the sound of laughter and she could smell the pool water and barbecued food.
Her mother had given her the medal after she'd been accepted to West Point. Chris remembers crying. She promised to always keep it near her, even though she wasn't sure if she believed anymore.
And she did, wearing all those years even as whatever faith in God she had slipped away. Too much death, too much despair and Chris couldn't see the point in worshipping any God even if she did believe.
She still had dreams, not as often as she used to. Not as many bad ones either. In most of them she was in the barracks, or some variation on the mess tent. The last one she'd been sitting across from Link, listening to him talk about patrol that day. Chris remembered that toothy grin and the familiar animated gestures he'd have as he spoke. Another thought niggled at the back of her mind as she dreamed, something else she was forgetting about him.
Then it came to her. Link was dead. Had been for ten, no, nine years. She wasn't sure why she had that dream, they hadn't been that close aside from a few conversations. She wasn't even sure if she had cried when she found out.
But every once in a while she'd think about him or Lt. McGuane or Shep or Mark and the others... The ones who had no date to commemorate their death, no Memorials. Just lies.
Sometimes, she'd remember something. Maybe it was a conversation and she could recall every word and laugh as if it happened yesterday. Then the realization would hit her hard enough to leave her breathless, just how much time had passed.
Chris wasn't much for guilt, not for things she couldn't control. Things happened and there was no rhyme or reason to them. No reason to wonder why it was them and not her. No one to appeal to, no higher reason. It's just the way it was.
And most of the time, that was enough.
She flipped the medal over, running a finger over the inscription on the back, words of prayer she had long since forgotten.
Most of the time.
May 30, 2011
The medallion was warm after being held in her hand. Thin, light and slightly tarnished. She'd have to polish it later. Chris leaned back in her chair, no longer under the warm sun. From here she had a view of the courtyard and the pool. She could hear the indistinct conversations of people at the pool, the sound of laughter and she could smell the pool water and barbecued food.
Her mother had given her the medal after she'd been accepted to West Point. Chris remembers crying. She promised to always keep it near her, even though she wasn't sure if she believed anymore.
And she did, wearing all those years even as whatever faith in God she had slipped away. Too much death, too much despair and Chris couldn't see the point in worshipping any God even if she did believe.
She still had dreams, not as often as she used to. Not as many bad ones either. In most of them she was in the barracks, or some variation on the mess tent. The last one she'd been sitting across from Link, listening to him talk about patrol that day. Chris remembered that toothy grin and the familiar animated gestures he'd have as he spoke. Another thought niggled at the back of her mind as she dreamed, something else she was forgetting about him.
Then it came to her. Link was dead. Had been for ten, no, nine years. She wasn't sure why she had that dream, they hadn't been that close aside from a few conversations. She wasn't even sure if she had cried when she found out.
But every once in a while she'd think about him or Lt. McGuane or Shep or Mark and the others... The ones who had no date to commemorate their death, no Memorials. Just lies.
Sometimes, she'd remember something. Maybe it was a conversation and she could recall every word and laugh as if it happened yesterday. Then the realization would hit her hard enough to leave her breathless, just how much time had passed.
Chris wasn't much for guilt, not for things she couldn't control. Things happened and there was no rhyme or reason to them. No reason to wonder why it was them and not her. No one to appeal to, no higher reason. It's just the way it was.
And most of the time, that was enough.
She flipped the medal over, running a finger over the inscription on the back, words of prayer she had long since forgotten.
Most of the time.
