A Message in a Dream
I stood at attention about a city block away from my young son, helplessly watching him, thinking how alone the little boy looks, standing below the light pole along a city sidewalk. With his combed blonde hair, button-down plaid shirt, khaki pants, and loosely tied shoes, the little boy I loved so much, alone and completely unaware.
He naively watched the choreographed militaristic acts of a group of 12 adults in the street in front of him as they performed obedient, synchronized moves of war.
The sadness within me was so intense as I watched him, realizing how profoundly our lives have been abruptly changed forever. Knowing how unaware of how alone he is in this world, unaware that while my instructor of new discipline continued to yell at me with intent to get me to learn the synchronized moves of war, while all I desperately wanted was run to him, hug him, tell him I love him one last time with a whispered message to survive, without me.
I felt extremely sad that night as I opened my eyes, rose from my bed, and shuffled across my bedroom to the bathroom, wondering what in my life has changed that I so desperatly want to hold onto.
