it. Not once.”
I waited.
“He passed away last year. My family found some old photographs in his garage. I didn’t understand them.”
He looked at the wall.
“But now I think I might.”
I nodded.
“Sometimes people don’t tell their stories because they don’t have the words.”
He looked at me.
“Do you think I should ask my grandmother about them?”
“Yes,” I said. “Ask her while you still can.”
He nodded.
Then he did something that surprised me.
He saluted.
I returned it.
And for a moment, I
was twenty-three again.
Not because I had become young.
But because the past had found a way to stand beside the present.
Across the dining hall, I noticed Sergeant Reese.
He was carrying a tray.
He saw me and stopped.
Then he approached.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.”
“Good afternoon, Sergeant.”
He looked toward the chili station.
“Are you having lunch?”
“I came all this way. I certainly hope so.”
He smiled awkwardly.
“Would you mind if I joined you?”
I looked at him for a moment.
Then I pulled out the
