Captain Harper pulled the
olive drab duffle from the floor of the closet.
“Mommy, can I help you
pack?”
"Here sweetie, you
hold the bag open for me.”
Pulling a worn, pine stool
from the corner, Sarah jumped atop, and stretched out her arms to grasp the
side of the cylinder shaped canvas bag that was as tall as she.
Captain Harper carefully piled the tools of her
profession into the deep of the duffle.
“What’s that?” Sarah asked
as a hard, five sided object with a dark green cover lowered below her face.
“Entrenching tool.”
“Enthr…” Sarah paused over
the word. “What’s that for?”
“Kinda like a shovel, but
really small all folded up. It’s what we dig foxholes with.”
Slowly the duffle filled
with gear, and with each unknown item, Sarah asked what it was and what was it
for. When she asked what the ammunition pouch was used for, her mom couldn’t
answer it would hold bullets so just swept the girl up in her arms for a tickle
helicopter ride instead.
/.../
The three duffels and a loaded
backpack waited by the car. Captain Harper filled the trunk with two duffle bags,
placing the third halfway in the door onto the back seat. The driver pulled it
across the seat and slammed the door.
“Why didn’t you put that
one with the rest?” said Sarah, pointing at the empty space in the trunk.
“Never mind, slide into
the middle up front.” The two adults held hands across Sarah’s lap.
/…/
The car pulled up to the
curb across the street from the National Guard Armory while slowly other cars
turned into the parking lot. The parents and little girl slipped from the front
seat of the car. Captain Harper pulled the two duffels from the trunk while her
partner slid the third from the back seat onto the ground.
“Mommy, here’s your
backpack,” Sarah struggled with the loaded pack, pulling it by one shoulder
strap. The pack thumped from the seat to the floor and then was pulled out of
the car landing with a thud onto the ground.
The adults looked at each
other and laughed.
“You didn’t really need
that computer, did you?”
“Nah, letters are more private than email anyway.” A whistle
sounded, echoing off the concrete walls. Captain Harper looked towards the
sound. “I’ve got to go,” she softly said, returning her gaze to the two people
she loved more than anyone in the world.
“I know.”
“No mommy!” Sarah hugged
Captain Harper tightly around the legs. Her mom put a hand on top of her head,
the other upon her back, pressing her close. Standing with Sarah wrapped around
her legs, she looked over Sarah’s head to the woman across from her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t apologize for what
you can’t change,” the woman replied with a tight smile. “Canada?”
“Not an option. Canada
sends ‘em back now, anyway.”
Captain Harper gripped
Sarah tightly, aching.
A tear trailed down the face of the woman watching from
behind the little girl. “I’ll miss you so much.”
“Me too,” answered Captain
Harper.
“ We can get through this.
We have before.”
“I know, it’s so…different
now,” Captain Harper said glancing down at Sarah.
“Just…come home. Don’t be
stupid or brave. Promise?”
A long moment as the two
stood silent with Sarah in the crevasse between them. “I promise.”
Captain Harper knelt
quickly and hugged Sarah tight. “I love you.” She swept up the crying girl. “Go
to Mama, Sweet Pea.” The two women’s hands grazed each other as Sarah went from
one woman to the other. A hesitation then Captain Harper let go as the second
woman pulled Sarah close to her chest. The soldier turned and deftly swept one
duffle over her head onto her back, grasping the others by their center hand
strap. She grunted with the weight, crossed the street and walked towards the
open gate in the fence of the compound. A sign next to the gate decreed in
block letters: RESTRICTED - Soldiers and family only.
Sarah watched her mommy
walk away. “Mama, why can’t we go with her inside to say goodbye like they
are?” She pointed at the other civilians inside the fence.
“We just can’t sweetie.”
Captain Harper joined a
river of people, most in small groups funneling through the gate. Once she
cleared the gate, she humped her bags over to where a couple soldiers were
stacking duffle bags onto a pallet and dropped them. Her bags would join the rest for the journey to Afghanistan.
Standing around were clusters of people, hugging, and crying, laughing, saying
goodbye. Looking across the grey asphalt she waved a moment then turned and
climbed onto the bus. Taking her seat, she pressed her forehead against the
window, watching the car drive away. A tear mingled with the dust on the glass.
Another soldier dropped
into the seat next to her. Captain Harper didn’t see his nod towards the
parking lot as he said, “Aren’t you glad you don’t have a family to put through
that?”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vicki Hudson lives in Northern California with her spouse and their two daughters. She holds a Master of Fine Arts from Saint Mary’s College of California in creative writing with focus on non-fiction writing. In 2007, she was a Fellow at the inaugural Lambda Literary Emerging Writers Retreat. Follow her life and literary musings on Twitter @vickigeist or publication news @vicki_hudson. She blogs about home, parenting, urban farming, food, and more at http://www.
Bay Laurel / Volume 1, Issue 2 / Winter 2012