365 Days At The Swings

Leo

 When I was ten years old, I lost my dad. In some retrospect it would seem like my fault.

Because it was.

It was bitter and unusually dark on the day of my birthday. During that week, I made an extra effort to be good, because all I wanted this year was for my dad to come home. My dad was stationed in Afghanistan. He was there for a long time. The last time I saw him was when I was 5.

Anyways, I always thought that it would be cool to have a father in the Marines.

"He is like a real living action figure!"

That's until I figured out the truth. That my dad wasn’t an action figure. There was a difference.

He can die.

"He is coming; he even has a surprise for you."

My mom said to me later in the night, awhile making her famous blueberry pie.

I ignored her, and continued to stare at our crooked door. It had a muddy color to it, the corners were chipped and the paint was slowly coming off. Mom told me before that I ate a good amount of paint when I was 3.

I was in the hospital for weeks.

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She urged me to take a break, to start opening some presents. Anything but waiting.

“Uncle Mel and Aunt Sig got you a pretty penny this year."

Mom said with a wink, nudging a big fat envelope towards me. My name being carefully written on the front.

But I was unresponsive; my attention was still on the door.

"I am going to wait for dad."

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Mom and I thought about you yesterday.

And days before that too.

We think of you in silence.

And often speak your name when eating blueberry pie.

The memory of our neighbor coming through the door instead of you is vivid and I can never make it go away.

And saying the words a child and a mother would never want to hear.

"Mrs. Harris, I think we found your husband outside."

You can fight in the Marines.

But you can't fight fate.

You kept going, even though you were still wounded.

"He wanted to come, and he did, they were going to keep him in the base for weeks for surgery, but he rejected it. He wanted to see his son."

Remember your buddy Al? He told us the truth in your funeral. You were wounded badly before my birthday, the base offered to perform surgery for you. But it was going to take weeks. You were going to miss my birthday.

But you know what also sucked dad? He moved, Al and Little Al moved, right after your funeral. I was furious with Little Al. He left when I needed him the most. His dad was my last living connection to you. After they left the more questions that I had.

Why didn't you take it? I would have understood, if you went through the surgery, you would have lived. You wouldn't have had a heart attack in the streets.

I am sorry that I was persistent for you to come home.

Love, Leo

"Happy birthday bud."

My mom said out loud, wrapping her arms from behind. I am caught off guard, which causes me to stop writing and to shove the letter to the side. This is what I do every year; I write him a letter and hide it in a box. I don't know why, no one is going to ever read it. In reality when writing a letter, you can send it to the person you desire to write to.

But that wasn't going to happen.

I guess this is just a good way for me to grieve.

I offer my mom a smile, standing up as I returned her hug.

"Thank you."

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My birthday is quiet this year.

It has been for a while.

There are less presents and only more envelops to open.

"You are a teenager; you don't need any more Legos."

Mom would jokingly say to me, awhile piling my hands up with more envelops.

Still, it would be nice to receive a gift. It's like once you pass the age of 12, adults would seemingly forget about you in holidays. Once, I remembered crying when my little cousin Annie and Zan, got more presents than me at Christmas time. I was convinced my aunts and uncles hated me.

"How many this year?" I asked.

"4."

My mother said quietly, awhile handing me the 4 envelops.

"4?"

I said with a laugh, frowning a bit.

"Everyone knows you have a job."

Mom replies back with a smile, after that she continues on saying

"I know one present you will like this year."

I was already beginning to open an envelope; my hand was halfway to reach for the card when I said

"What?"

"She is back."