Life is Short

Chapter 2

Twelve years later, the US entered the Vietnam War. I watched the sun come up on an early morning in 1965. I was seated on the wooden porch, waiting to say goodbye to my brother who was going off to the war, fulfilling his promise to keep me and the rest of America safe. Believe me, I was glad my brother wanted to protect America, but I also feared that he might die. My thoughts were interrupted when I heard our wooden door squeak as it was being opened.

I looked up to see my brother dressed in his uniform, ready to fight for his country. Emotional, I stood face-to-face with him, and then, I pulled him in for a hug. I wished I wouldn't have to let him go, but the sad truth was, I had to. He pulled away from the hug, put his hands on my shoulder, and stared into my eyes.

"Promise me that you will stay in touch," he said.

"I promise," I replied.

Then he smiled.

"Take care of mother," he added.

I nodded and with that, he slowly faded away down the dusty road. I hated to not go with him, but my mother was sick and my father had passed away earlier that year, so I was left to take care of her. I walked back into the house and made my way to my mother's room where she lay, crying.

"He grew up so fast," she whispered to me as I sat on her bed next to her. "The devil loves war. War is just evil from the pits of Hell," she stated angrily.

"I agree," I replied.

"Why didn't you talk him out of it?" my mother questioned.

"He is a grown man, he can make his own decisions."

"I want to be alone," she stated, dismissing me. I walked into the room that I once shared with my brother. The room was almost empty without Quinton's junk everywhere. I remember when we were younger, we would fight over each other's messes. With the thoughts and memories cluttering my mind and nobody to share them with, I laid down on my bed and fell asleep for the rest of that day.

The orange glow from the rising sun absorbed the darkness from my slumber. I opened my eyes and turned on the radio beside me. All that was broadcasting was the tension in the war. I turned off the radio, not wanting to hear about the war where my brother could die. I dressed and walked out to tend to the crops and animals on our farm. With my brother gone, I had a lot more to do.

When I finally finished working, I took a walk down the road my brother and I used to play on. The same road he left for war on. As I travelled down it, I kicked some rocks up. Memories of us playing together came back to me. We used to play tag and race each other. I could still hear his laugh and with that thought, a tear fell from my eye.

After having some time to myself, I walked back home and grabbed a paper and pencil. I sat down and began writing the first letter to my brother.

Dear Quinton,

It has only been a day and I already miss you so much. This has been the longest we have been apart and it is only going to get longer. I know that you are going to make it out of the war alive, and until you get back, I will be sitting here, waiting.

-Nathan.