Dear Nick

Heading Home

My name is Nick & I'm a proud U.S. Marine, who is sitting on a plane, heading home. Finally. It's been a long time since I've been on American soil. I joined the Marines right out of high school & after more than a year of hardcore training, I was sent to Iraq to fight in the war. I trained to protect & serve my country by doing whatever needed to be done. Being smack dab in the center of the war, I saw a lot. I won't even tell you everything I saw, but I will say that what I saw will never leave my memory. It will always be there, unfortunately, even if I would give anything to make it go away. Besides seeing a lot, I did a lot. Yes, I killed people. Some women. Some children. That's the way it goes over there, sadly. I had to protect my men. I had to protect myself.

I was in Iraq for roughly two years. The days & nights all blended in together, but I tried to keep track of the days, as best as I could. One day, just after I had my two year anniversary date from arriving in Iraq, I was in the middle of an attack that set my legs on fire. I don't remember the details, thankfully, but I remember the many months of recovery at a German hospital. I was in a hospital in Iraq for many weeks until I was stable enough to make the trip to Germany.

Now, I am fully recovered & I'm heading home, after being honorably discharged, from the Marines. I still have a ways to go before I'm completely done with doctors. I still have to see a doctor for another possible surgery, but I am alive & that's all that matters to me. I was lucky that most of my burn area was second degree & I owed that to my uniform & the quick thinking men around me who smothered the fire, quickly. I was also fortunate that it didn't reach my groin area. I did have a few spots that were third degree burns, but they were very small areas. My scars were minimal, but I was still self conscious about them. They covered one half of my outer right leg & then the bottom part of my left leg. My left leg wasn't as bad, thankfully, but I still didn't plan to wear shorts out in public.

I could have given up many times before & after my injury, but I didn't. There is one reason & one reason only as to why I am still alive. That reason kept me going during those two years & kept me going while I recovered in the hospital. I had her photo that she sent me, early on in our correspondence. I laughed when I opened the letter & saw the photo. It was her striking a pose at her brand new job that she was super excited about. Her smile was my favorite thing about her & it was prominent in the photo, which is why I kept it with me at all times & why I would look at it often. I knew I had to get back home to that smile, because if I didn't, her smile wouldn't be as luminous. She would be sad if I didn't make it home & I knew I couldn't be the reason for her sadness. Besides that photo, her letters gave me hope & strength. She always knew how to make me laugh or make me see the bigger picture. She had a way about her that just made you notice her. She was smart & optimistic & had an incredible zest for life. She was always this positive ray of light in my life since the day I met her when I was six years old.

That first day of kindergarten is probably one of my earliest memories from my life. I was sitting at a table, alone & scared. My mom barely stopped the car, that morning, before she shoved me out & told me to ask someone where to go. I watched all these kids as their moms & dads kissed them & hugged them goodbye & I couldn't remember the last time my mom even touched me. She didn't abuse me, physically, but she did mentally & emotionally. She never wanted me. She made that clear. She ignored me but still managed to make sure I was fed & had clothes. She had a drinking problem & if it hadn't been for my grandmother, I would probably have died as a child. My grandmother tried to do what my mom didn't, but that first day of kindergarten, my grandmother was out of town for her job.

"I'm Demi." I remember her tiny, but deep voice saying as she sat next to me at the small table. I looked at her & she gave me that smile & from that moment on, Demi was my best friend. Often, she was my salvation. Okay, not often. Nearly all the time she was my salvation. If it hadn't been for Demi & her family, I would have fallen apart when my grandmother died, in the middle of my eighth grade year.