Thursday, April 29, 2010


Somewhere in the world there is a woman. She sits alone in the dark, her face illuminated by the light of a laptop screen. She chats with old friends, laughing and having a good time. But there is a dark spot in her life. There is the phone ... beside her leg or her hand, always within reach lest it ring unnoticed and go unanswered. At the moment it is silent and her aching heart is screaming.

She can remember so clearly the feel of his rough skin after a day without shaving. Her hand can still form itself to the shape of his face effortlessly. The salt taste of his jaw is still familiar though it has gone untasted, the way a child can remember the taste of Marshmallow Peeps all year long. She remembers the hair on his chest, the contours of his body, and the timbre of his voice in the morning though it has gone unheard.

Somewhere there is a woman who sits alone remembering happier times in the past, looking forward to the future with both excitement and fear. She searches endlessly for more information, seeking to learn more and more about the life he doesn't have time to share. She is understanding ... but apprehensive.

Full of questions, she plays a song to distract, but it only reminds her of his touch, reminds her of sweet words once spoken, promises made, and her heart aches again. Full of worries, she turns on the TV, but the couple portrayed there have found solace in each other and again she longs for his presence.

She reminds herself that it is a small thing, merely training without the "real" dangers that now loom as possibilities in the future. But still ...

Somewhere there is a soldier. He belongs to a woman who somewhere waits for him. And the time passes ever so slowly.

Damn I miss Private Ryan.