(no subject)
Yesterday I went to the hospital to see my First Hero. I meant to stay for only an hour just to hear what the doctor would say and to find out when they would fly him to Cleveland. I stayed all day, in my work clothes, dress and heals like a small child playing grownup I sat, I watched, walked, talked, and never left. Finally at 6pm my hero was picked up by the flight nurse and flown away. Like the child of long ago, I stood at the elevator waving and blowing kisses, Bye Daddy, a strong young uniform clad man super impossed over my now older, more frail father, as my older brother and I stared at his retreating form remembering his flight away to war so many years ago. It feels no different the fear is the same, will he return, will he be alright. Whatever the end he will always be My Hero