letters from war.

02

           The feeling of love makes me weak in the knees, heavy in my feet with a mixture of sweaty palms. Derek was a caring tender heart, he has been since the first day I met him.

            I grabbed my letter and walked down the staircase. I looked to Tank who was in font of the blazing fire, in the living room. I grabbed my worn down boots and my jacket, one my mother gave to me. I whistled to Tank, Tank ears perked up as he rose. I opened the door and invited the blistering cold in, it made your teeth chatter.

            Tank was by my hips as we walked out on to the freshly fallen snow.

           " Tank we should go help out at the store today." He looked up at me and blinked, I smiled as I placed the letter in the mailbox and raised the plastic red flag up

           

             We began our day as happy and as hopeful as we could be. We walked about two miles and then a few more blocks to get to my fathers store. When we finally arrived not a lot of people were there, mostly older men reading the paper while enjoying their coffee. Our town is small so everyone knows everyone.

            Tank left my side and went in the back room where the furnace is. My dad also known around town as Mr. Ron, or Ron , came behind the cooking counter.

          "Howdy Vick." Ron said pouring a mans cup filled just enough so they could use sugar or cream if they wanted to.

            "Hi dad." I said taking off my coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. 

            "Why did you come into work today? Isn't today your only day off ?" Ron replied.

           "I was bored at home and decided to take 'Lil Tank on a walk.

           " Ain't nothing tiny about that dog."He said patting the dogs head.

         My dad was born in Texas , my mom Maine . They met when my mom ran away from her abusive and drunken father. He never did look for her , but when my parents met,they never would be apart from that day on. After about three years she became pregnant, with my sister Juliana. She now lives in Arizona. After she had my sister they waited about a year and then she had me. Moral of the story is one, my family history and two my father still has his Texan blood and will every now and then throw a y'all or howdy in his speaking pattern.

            I laughed, "Well that's true."

           "Any news from that boy?" My father said meaning Derek, as he wiped his hands on a dirty towel.

          

           "Yes not good, but not bad either." I said.

    

          My dad looked at his feet as he placed the towel on to the counter.

           "So-" I said as preppy and as excited as I could be. "What do you need me to do?"

          " I have a few boxes that need to be in packed." He said pointing to the boxes near the door.

          I smiled and walked to the doorway, and put on an apron. I take a box to the bread space. I begin to unpack, when all of a sudden  a man with a deep voice asked me where the fruit was.