Memories In Ink

Chapter One: The Comfort Of Home

    The sunlight shined onto the puddles of water, emitting vast rainbows of light into my eyes. It was June 8, 1943 as I was returning home from school. Being 18, I was excited to be graduating in a few days, although, I was scared of what was to come, due to being young and afraid of responsibility.
     I could hear the bleat of goats off in the distance as I turned my ruby red '38 Ford sedan onto my street. The summers usually hit pretty hard in Arkansas, especially during the months of June, July, and August. The old Ford grinded a bit as I put it into third gear, the old thing needed a new clutch, although I hadn't had the time, nor the money. As I pulled into the driveway I noticed my mother was home. I grabbed my books and shut off the purring flathead six cylinder motor. As I made my way to the door I turned back to look at the sedan glistening in the sunlight. You know, the way most young kids do. I approached the faded green door my father painted when I was only knee high to a grasshopper, as he'd always say.
       The door creaking open startled my cat, Max, and made him scurry into the dining room. As I walked into the living room I noticed mother didn't have her Truetone Radio on, an unusual occurrence. As I made my way down the hallway, I could hear soft sobs coming from my mother's bedroom. As I approached her door, the sobs got louder, accompanied by the sound of paper being opened. I slowly opened the door and startled her.
      "Everett, you're home early.", She said as she wiped the tears from her face as if nothing had happened. I looked at her in a concerning way and set my books down. She sighed, "It's the- they want-", she trailed off as she couldn't keep from sobbing. I grabbed the letter in her hands and opened it up. The big black letters forever stained my memory as I held the letter into my hand. "Order of Induction Into Military Service of the United States.", As I read the letter, I could not comprehend anything, due to my mind going a million miles a minute. I looked up, waiting to see my mother smile and play it off as a sick joke, but it never happened. I put the letter down and walked over to her dresser, looking at the picture of my father in his military uniform. My mother looked up with her tear stained face at me. "You know, your father would be proud of you, the dashing young man you have become.", I looked at my fathers portrait, then to myself, immediately seeing the resemblance of our eyes and nose. "Mother, I have to go, it's only right. My father served this country so you and I could live in peace, as I must do in return.", I looked up at my mother and said: "Momma, I love you but you and I both saw this day coming. I've been called to serve and it's my duty to do so." She walked up to me and kissed my cheek, trying to smile away her tears. "You'll make this country proud honey." She smiled at me and straightened my hair. She slowly let go of me and turned around walking out of the room. I took one last look at the letter, noticing the stamp that said "please bring all papers." In big black faded letters. I put the letter into my bedside table and walked into the kitchen. The  smell of chicken and dumplings hit my nose and instantly brought me back to my childhood. She put her ladle into the pot to draw out a portion for me onto a plate. She sat the plate down at the table.
      "Take a seat honey, this will be the last good meal you'll have for a while." I sat down and prepared for my meal. Mother sat down across from me, blowing on her spoon. As we began to eat her favorite song came on the radio, "Straighten up and fly right." She hummed along as she ate, attempting to pretend it was another normal evening with her son, the last one she would have in a while. If not the last one.
"Momma?" I asked as I took another spoonful of my supper. Mother looked up at me, while chewing her food. "Yes dear?" I looked up at her, then back down at the table. "How old was I when papa died?" Momma's face quickly changed expression. Her face became a blank monotonous stare. The crickets chirping outside, along with Max's purring, we're the only things breaking the awkward silence. She continued picking around her plate as she tried to muster up the words. "You we're about 3 years old. You probably don't remember it much." She cleared her throat as a single tear trailed down her tired face. "Oh mamma." I said as I reached for her hand. She suddenly slapped it away, regaining her composure. "Now that's enough of that, I ain't gonna cry." She cleared her throat as she placed her fork onto the table. "Your father promised me he'd write me, every singe day. And he did, for a while." Mother cleared her throat once more, keeping the emotions from overtaking her. "Then one day, the letters just stopped. I figured he might have been off fighting, or been to busy and hadn't had the time. Then this wave of dread hit me one night laying in bed." I took a drink of water as she kept explaining. "It was March 18th, when I felt that. Two days later, a man came up to the door, holding a-" Mother trailed off as she began to sob. I tried to ease my hand toward her. Her hand met mine this time, allowing the sense of comfort. She continued as her voice went an octave higher with sorrow. "Holding a flag, and you were there beside me, holding my hand. You were too young to know. I had to raise you all on my own, and was it hard." She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face. She continued as she pulled out her handkerchief. "Now they got you going off too. But you listen to me son, you fight hard for this land, and you come back to me! I can't afford to lose another man in my life." I looked down at the table, my appetite now gone, and a pit in my stomach. "Momma." I cleared my throat. "I promise I will come back." Mother completely lost all composure and slammed her head onto the table, causing the forks to slide off of our plates, crying as hard as she could. I just sat there, watching her cry. What was I to do? I didn't know how else to assure her. Ten minutes went by, and her head was still down on the table as she sobbed away. Then it occurred to me, I had never seen that woman cry one time in my life. Fifteen years of holding it in, finally let go.
I let mother cry awhile, as I sat there holding her hand. I could do nothing but sit there, with my stomach knotted up. Mother's sobs slowly went silent, as Max stared at her from the table. I could tell she wasn't feeling herself, especially if Max was on the table. I gently eased out of my chair, and rubbed her back, as her sobs faded away. I grabbed her shoulders to try and wake her. She jolted up and looked up at me. "Lets go get you in bed momma." She nodded silently as her face was filled with sorrow. I walked her to bed slowly, passing the pictures on the wall. Looking back at me, six years old, holding a wrench with my grandpa before he passed. The dimly lit hallway gave me enough guidance to escort mother to her bedroom door. I slowly opened the door and led her into the room. I turned down her bed as she made her way to it, still silent. As she eased her worn out body into the bed, I kissed her forehead. "Goodnight momma." I said to her, expecting a response. As I looked up at her, she was sound asleep. I eased her covers up to her, and slowly made my way back to the kitchen.
That evening, I stayed up, cleaning the dishes. As I scrubbed on the white glass plates, max was on the counter beside me, purring away. Although he wasn't able to comprehend me, he was the only audience I had to talk to. I looked at him, as he meowed at me. "I've never seen momma cry like that before, Max. I hope she's okay, maybe she's just worried about me, what do you think?" Max remained looking up at me, slowly blinking his eyes offset from one another. "Yeah I think she is buddy." I said. I let out a chuckle. "Talking to a damn cat, I'm really losing my mind ain't I?" Max looked at me and meowed again. I reached out to pet him as he purred louder. I looked back down at my hands, scrubbing plates and making the time pass. Max kept meowing at me, I realized the time and looked at him. "I bet you're hungry pal!" He let out a small meow to confirm he was. I reached under the sink and pulled out a can of tuna fish. I pulled out my pocket knife and began to open it. In the process, I nicked my finger. "Ouch!" I said as max looked at me. I continued cutting the can and opened it up for him. He gobbled it up quick, smacking as loud as he could.
The sun became a great big orange ball, slowly sitting it's base along the tree line of our backyard. I headed to my room to lay down for bed. I opened the door to my room, the instant smell of paper and old magazines filled the air, as I was quite an artist in my younger days. I looked in the corner of the spare bedroom behind me and noticed a box. That box was always there, but I couldn't remember why. I eased over to the box, walking away from my doorway as the floorboards creaked with my weight on them. As I approached the box, I noticed my dads name: "Jeremiah" etched into it with a pen. I slowly opened the box to reveal a handful of letters. I decided to grab one and opened it up. The fragile paper fell open in my hands as I began to read. "My Dearest Esther, We have just completed basic training, and I have been placed in infantry. I hope all is well with you and our soon to be son. Don't forget to tell him daddy is coming home soon. The nights here get lonely without you here, I miss you deeply. From my heart to yours, love, Jeremiah. I slowly pulled the letter away from me, staring off into space. I couldn't believe it, how I had never known she kept all of his letters. I glanced up at the date. February 19th, 1924. That was three months before I was born. I quickly closed the box, and went into my room. I undressed and began to get into bed. As I lay down I could hear the frogs croaking across the creek outside. I stared out into the field, seeing a younger image of myself playing in the grass with grandpa. He grabbed me up and said "Your father would sure be proud of you boy." I blinked and they were gone. I smiled as I turned my head towards my dresser, looking at the old photos of my father on the mirrors surface. "I will make you proud daddy." I said as I lay there. The crickets started up as the sun set behind the mountain north of the house. The crickets sang their song, and slowly sang me to sleep.