Coming Home

Part 1

Home sweet home. It's been two years since I've seen the beautiful scenery of Oregon, but in less than two hours I would see her lovely land. Portland, Oregon, the place where I met and fell in love with my wife, beautiful Jolie. The image of her and my homecoming was the only thing that kept me sane through the last eight months. Life in Vietnam was miserable. Metal hit flesh from all sides and screams of agony and pain were heard twenty-four/ seven. We would receive tips on locations to raid, but when we would get there, it was impossible to determine the citizens from the soldiers until one of our own was killed. Tommy, my mind instantly went to that dark, fateful night, but I shook it away. I would not think about my best friend's death or my decision to leave him for the wretched Vietnamese to collect, because I promised him and myself that one of us would make it home to see our women.

Focus, I told myself. I looked down at my hands wrapped tightly around my camouflage pants and forced them to relax. I would be happy for my dearest Jolie. I hoped she wore her beautiful floral sundress. A smile grew on my face as I remembered the first time she wore that dress.

It was the middle of July, the hottest since we had been together. I was working in the field, tilling for her, because she was three months pregnant. She came out in that dress, stomach beginning to show the growth of our first child, carrying two glasses of lemonade. She called to me, and I pulled the last weed before coming to her.

"The garden looks lovely," she complimented as I sat down and took the glass she offered.

"So do you," I stared straight into her eyes as I spoke.

She blushed and ducked her head, "You flatter me, Mr. Dawson."

"You should be flattered, Mrs. Dawson," I responded.

Together, we finished our lemonade and I took her to the garden while I watered. She pulled out a pail and offered to help, so I filled the pail with water. Apparently, watering the plants was not her first priority, because she picked up that little bucket and dumped it on top of me. I retaliated by spraying her with the hose. We ran around the yard spraying each other with that hose and that beautiful floral dress became absolutely drenched.

Before we had known about the pregnancy, she insisted that she start a garden so we could have jarred fruit during the winter months. I didn't think it would be a problem, because I was planning on working on our new house the entire summer. A few weeks after she started the planting, the morning sickness came. We each had our suspicions, and the doctor later confirmed them. Seven months later, Timothy was born.

"Excuse me, sir?" a voice brought me out of my memories.