You asked me to tell you about your Dad and I think now that you are fifteen, maybe I can tell you a little. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to copy my journal into this letter, it’ll be easier for me. It was long ago but still makes me cry and I don’t want you to be upset by your Giju”s tears… We can talk about it when you get home from your Grandma’s.
The last time I saw Broken Boy Soldier, he was still Eric.
He had driven up to the campground where we’d met for so many summers, with our families. He came with the boy who would soon be known as “Husband”.
He already looked different. We were sitting side by side on a picnic table, looking out across the great lake. The one that we’d joked wasn’t a well guarded enough border to keep us apart. I stole a glance at him in the fast approaching twilight. The glossy black curls that had rested on the collar of his leather jacket were gone, his hair was so short, it almost looked painful. His ears looked pale compared to the summer tan that still coloured his face and neck. I wanted to kiss them…
4 December 2013
To Be Continued…