Drawing Soldiers

Chapter Three

The color green has always been a sad one for me. Yes its a color I'm proud of, it's the color that represents my father, his brothers and so many more but its also the color that caused tears to track down my mothers face every time my father walked out the room in his uniform.

Its the color I was held against while my dad hugged me goodbye, its the color that brought fear and loneliness into our lives every so often. Its the color that I grew up knowing the most.

Green means separation, green means danger, green means fear, green means sadness, green means Dad.

Dad has always and will always be the strongest man I know. The person I look up too, the person who thought me what I know best and that is what I don't want in life. I don't want the life  my mother had. I don't want to worry more than I should and I most definitely don't want my kids feeling it. But green is also the only color I see at the moment, how am I supposed to sketch anything when the only color that catches my attention is the color I hate the most. I was so excited to see my father again, to feel loved and safe. To feel at peace if only for a couple of day.

But instead I'm stuck with the urge to paint and only have this to go by off. A beautiful scenery of trees and grass, of course there's more than just green but it has been the color that dominates my life for as long as I can remember and apparently its going to keep doing just that. 

My feet push me to turn around and head in a different direction away from the sadness, the memories. He is here, he is safe, he is home but for how long? In my desperate need to find something to paint, draw, sketch anything to get my feeling on paper, my hands moving and my mind away from the darkness I find myself sat on a picnic table bench watching men and women work their bodies to the limit.

A group of 10 people diverse in color, height, weight and beauty sit in a circle stretching their muscles either warming up or cooling down but all are sporting a smile while keeping up a conversation. My finger hover over the page waiting for just one of them to give me what I want. And I get it, in seconds one of the men in the group stops smiling, his face falls into one of sadness. His muscles tense and his forehead wrinkles, he is beautiful.

  My hand works as fast as possible trying to not miss anything of importance, his finger are curled at his sides, his fist pressing on the ground, his chest rises and falls at a fast pace one that could be passed as post workout exhaustion which explains why his friends haven't noticed. His legs are set straight in front of him and he looks lost, his eyes scan the area as if his body and mind had gone back to the other half of his life.

To the dangerous part of it. The one they claim to love so much that they can't seem to abandon, the one that messes with their minds and emotions. There is a scar on his face that travels from his left eyebrow to his chin, traveling over his lips. Lips that have twisted up into a snarl.

His body has so much emotion to show, every inch of it telling his story in a silent plead for help. As soon as my pencil drops onto the pad his body relaxes, his fist release the tension that had been running through his body and he stands with out word and begins to jog up a trail into the wood. His friend following him with their eyes but none brave enough to actually follow him and make sure his ok. They all know what's coming and he may have told them to stay away from him when ever he acted in such a way yet they keep their eyes on the trees waiting for him to return safe.

And yet again the green swallows someone else, incasing him in hurt, in loneliness, in regret but still be unable to unmask the truth of the nature making them blind to what's really happening, he is his own enemy. His mind is holding a riffle up to his head and threatening to unfold all that is ugly and evil in its possession if he keeps acting normal, happy.

  The war wins again and it will keep winning unless he faces his demons, but these man have one thing in common they are thought to trust and depend on each other but also be capable of taking care of themselves and not ask for help unless there is no choice. But when exactly is 'no choice' acceptable. Where does the definition truly lye, they have yet to find out.  

 "Wow, its so raw." The voice had her already jumpy nature kicking into over drive. with quick movements she was standing facing Jayden who was seated on his chair hands folded on his lap and huge smile on his face. "did you just draw this?" I nod my head and move to clean up my belongings. "who is it?" his head is swinging back and forth searching faces and taking in everyone in the near proximity. 

 "He left, I don't know his name but if you see him again give him this for me" I hand over the paper with my drawing and move around his chair and towards the house. I need to stay as far away from him as possible, I cant risk forming a bond with another one of them. I cant keep hurting, he looks perfectly fine and I know the minute he gets off that chair he will be sprinting towards his comander asking when his next deployment is and beging for it to be moved up. Its who they are. And I can not take anymore of it.