(no subject)
A voice breaks the silence for two minutes in the middle of the night. A rushed call with rushed words that I do not recall from my nyquil, flu induced slumber; but I am sure they were dripping with sweetness and I am sure I said I miss you and now I drive home from work to the quiet, empty mountains, to my quiet life and I'll sit for the weekend and drink and watch football and pray for the phone to ring, while I crochet and make Christmas cards that I'll stick copies of our picture into.
10 Marines died today, or maybe yesterday and I am too scared to even think about what it must be like for those families.
10 Marines died today, or maybe yesterday and I am too scared to even think about what it must be like for those families.