Home: Part 44

What follows is a work of fiction. Nothing here is either true or relevant. Read at your own risk. Expect nothing, and that's exactly what you'll get. Oh: This could go on for a while.

June 1968 

"My parents think you're crazy," I told Mitchell. We were sitting in McDonald's.

"I probably am," he said. "My dad didn't really say anything, just kind of looked at me. My cried."

"You're their only kid. If I went away, at least my parents would have Cindy. Why didn't you just wait to see if you got drafted?"

Mitchell shrugged and chewed a piece of his hamburger. "I thought of that. But I was lying in bed one night and I thought that I'd like to be in charge of my own fate, you know? When the war's over and I get home, I can join the American Legion and the VFW."

"Everyone needs goals, I guess," I said.

"I just couldn't see staying here," he said.

I understood what he meant. The town we lived in was small, and there was little to do for those who were done with high school. I was taking my one-and-a-half-legged-self to college, though the campus was just a few miles from home so I really wasn't going anywhere. "You'll be a local hero," I said. "We'll have parades."

Mitchell laughed. "Yeah. Parades."