White, light flurries drift to the snow-covered ground. Shivering, I grasp my thin and threadbare blanket and pull it to my chin. I huddle against the cold, brick wall. The frigid night air stings my tired lungs. The chilling night drags on.
I think about my day. I had held my beggar's cup and sign that read, Homeless and hungry veteran. Will work for food. Anything will help.
A few people dropped a few coins in the paper cup. One man bought me a meal from McDonald's. To each one that gave, I said sincerely, "Thank you! God bless!"
Some shot daggers at me with their eyes. Another man even shouted, "Get some work, you lazy bum!" Smoke exhaust flew out the pipe, as he revved his fancy sports car and raced away.
New year's fireworks in a nearby park snap me out of my thoughts. I instantly flash back to rapid gunfire. Medics tend to the wounded soldiers in the dark trenches, the shear terror for the safety of my brothers keeping me going.
A gentle hand shakes my shoulder, making me jump. "You okay?" a concerned voice asks, which draws me out of my flashback.
I stare at my uncontrollable shaking hands and nod. PTSD is just another part of life for me... A part of my life that brings me back to memories I can't seem to erase.
Some people want to help me get back on my feet again. Others would care less and just curse me for making their streets look worse. No matter which side they're on, almost no one will understand what I've sacrificed in attempt to make America safe.
It's not what their reactions that bother me necessarily. It's the way my own country treats me after I fought for them all. I just want a comfortable home with a family. I just want to experience the safety they are enjoying. The safety that I fought for.
It's not too much to ask. Is it?
YOU ARE READING
A Soldier's Life
Short StoryThrough everything they have fought for us, we throw them off to the side as if we're ashamed of them protecting us. What is life like for our military veterans? Sadly, for some not too good.
