The Soldier's Journal

||Entry Eight||

October 18th, 1945

I've been stayin' with a buddy named James for a little bit now. Life has been pretty great since I got back to North Carolina. I met James at a bar in Moorsville. I told him how my other buddy, Harris, kicked me out of his home not too long after we returned. James was gracious enough to offer his home to me, and I obviously took his offer. 

We spend most of our days accompanied by some drinks – and other substances. It was a lot to take in at first, but I think we've adjusted to it quite nicely. See, Harris kicked me out for that very reason. All of the, well, substances, if you will. He mentioned somethin' about seein' a doctor, or even a rehabilitation center. 

I think that's just ridiculous. He was there. He knows better than most people here, just what we went through. Except he has a family to run back home to. He's got a lovin' wife, and a little girl that just adores him. 

I've got no one. No wife, and the ex won't let me see my son, I've got no other children. My pa won't let me come home, you can forget about my brother lettin' me into his home, and I haven't seen my mama or sisters in years. All I've got is James, and if I'm bein' honest, I don't even like him that much. I'm just cordial to him so I'll have a roof over my head, without bein' judged for everything I do. 

Ms. Eleanor slips into my mind from time to time. She's probably made somethin' out of herself. She's probably found herself a nice husband who does somethin' with business. She's probably got one, two, maybe even three children at this point. 

I'd be willin' to bet they all look just like her. Or they've at least probably got her eyes, and most likely her freckles. They've probably even got her blonde hair, too. People always said my son looked like me. I don't know what he looks like now. 

My ex wife never sends me any recent photographs of him. She never even writes me to tell me how he's doin'. A child needs a father in their life. But maybe it's a good thing she keeps me away from him. With how my life is goin' right now, it's probably best that I don't have kids or a wife. 

A child shouldn't have to grow up in an environment with alcohol and drugs being so constant, it's basically home decor. Not that his mama is any better than me. She's just as bad – maybe even worse.

Although, maybe if I had a family to return to, I'd be more mentally stable. Well, maybe not stable, but I could rely on my family for stability. Well, I'd rather stop myself there. I'll talk to ya in the next entry. Oh my, I've just ended this like a phone call.

As always,

– Edwin Myers