Full Circle With Solomon
by P.K. Winterway
That’s what my Dad always said to me. At the campfire, at parent-teacher conferences, at the dinner table, while playing catch in the backyard, while we were fishing at the pond in Park Ridge, Illinois: he always said those words to me…. It all comes ‘full circle’.
At a young age, I didn’t fully grasp the meaning behind those words until I had reached a certain point, and even then it was a mere smidgen of an idea. It took a while to get to that ‘point’. But I guessed: better late than never.
I made it a bit closer to that ‘point’ as I was about to wave good-bye to my Dad. He was dressed in camouflage. I thought it looked cool. What wasn’t cool was the fact that he was walking away — walking away from me.
Mom and Dad did all they could to reassure me of the good stuff — homecomings, live feeds, Christmas presents, phone calls, prestige. Yes, my Dad is a freedom fighter, a world warrior, a patriot, a peacemaker. But he was also my father …. Above all things, I thought.
In the front yard, it was our last day of playing catch. I was ten. I knew what was coming. He hugged me hard. That’s how we hugged. I dealt with it. I tried not to cry. The sky was grey. Dismally grey. I thought it was odd, because the smile on his face and his blue eyes made me feel quite a bit different. I sensed he was also trying to keep composure, though. But it wasn’t easy. Even Mom started blubbering a bit.
He left. That was it.
The knock on the door stunned me something fierce, because it was uncommon. Being tucked away in a cul-de-sac, we generally didn’t get many “visitors” unless they were invited over. The occasional service person, plumber or electrician, of course — but anyone else? No.
When Mom opened the door and saw that it was a guy in uniform, something inside me jolted. Like that fishy feeling of being out of air even when you’re breathing. You feel like you need something, but you also don’t need anything. You’re at a loss. You don’t know. And that’s part of the fear, the real bizarre of the mortal world.
You. Just. Don’t. Know. Anything.
I looked up to see my Mom as she placed her hands right under her collarbone, listening to the man. I was playing on my PS4. Call of Duty. I couldn’t help but glance at her and him, speaking earnestly about something.
Something serious.
I couldn’t tell what, though, as I peppered the screen with bullets. Air support flew in. It was all or nothing, man.
That’s when I saw tears fall from her eyes — like rain from the sky. Her bottom lip trembled as it all came over her. That was my cue. I paused my game — such a cool thing to do, because I certainly didn’t want to lose this fight. Let’s keep things going good, right?
As I put my controller down, she shook his hand, and he comforted her shoulder. Tipping his hat, he left. Mom closed the door. As I walked up to her, I saw the magnitude of sorrow in what felt like her soul breaking in two, or three, or more. And I could only guess…. After just six months….
“I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry,” she said to me.
She didn’t even have to explain. I knew what it meant. Her soul may have broken in two, three, or more; but mine utterly shattered to pieces.
It was a process. I’ll say that much. Growing up was a give-and-take sort of life, struggling through school, finding it difficult to trust anybody. I got myself into some trouble left and right, but Mom was always there to pull me out of the ditch or demon’s den, set me straight, keep me focused- Don’t lose it, she always said.
I had to admit I did make it difficult. Didn’t know why. Just something inside me, I guessed.
All the times she had to show up at the school while I was sitting in the front office, scribbling on pieces of paper a dark message of lead lines, glistening over the whiteness, scratchy and black as pitch. Heck, I was only 14 at the time that I remember being in my own little ‘place’ inside my head, tuning the world out and thinking that this is all just ‘flatness’. There was no ‘point’ to all of it.
She tried her damnedest. I gave her that. Crossing her arms, talking to the principal and then glancing at me with those fierce eyes…. Sure, Mom, go ahead and beat me up, don’t care. I guessed I deserved it, so why fight it?
Driving me home was a journey — somehow took longer than the fifteen minutes it usually took, but that was probably because of the nature of the event. I was going home to ‘prison’. Sort of. The trip to ‘prison’ always took longer. I, however, sensed the strangest thing from Mom that I couldn’t nail down inside my own head, that she was planning something.
Chores? Scrubbing the floor? Raking the leaves? Using a toothbrush not for my teeth, but for the toilet? What you got? Bring it.
As we pulled up into the driveway, I saw the coolest thing, something you didn’t see everyday: two hulking dudes, also dressed in that military camouflage my Dad dressed in the day he left us.
They were a couple of my Dad’s pals back in the day. Still serving, I thought. Or maybe not. I remembered them nevertheless. Blood brothers, they were. But they weren’t alone.
They had this really cool German Shepherd with them- Her name was Alex, Mom had said, as she was shutting the car off. Yeah, a girl dog named Alex.
Even though I knew I was in big trouble, I didn’t know why I did what I did: but I leaped out of the car and ran to them (I knew who they were, obviously), and I slammed into both of them. Hugging them hard. That’s how I hugged. Everyone dealt with it.
They laughed at me something deep and guttural. Mom actually smiled…. Was I really in trouble here? Had to be a trick….
It wasn’t.
The guys, ripped like tree trunks (wish I could look like that), knelt down with me right in the driveway as I ran my fingers across Alex’s scruffy coat, their eyes blue like my Dad’s, and they said this to me:
“We want to talk to you about your Dad.”
“About how awesome he was.”
“Would you like that?”
“Come on, Solomon…. We gotta do this.” I sighed…. “Not going to like it, though.”
As I sat in the car and Solomon looked at me from the passenger side, I couldn’t help but think of his long-gone mother Alex from way back in the day, and that same scruffiness rubbed me much the same way. Sticking his tongue out and looking as vibrant even underneath the dirty mud-color coat, it was clear that this was a time when Solomon was even more of a soldier than I could ever be. Even as I was dressed in uniform.
I stared at the front door of the house I was parked at. What a challenge…. You’d think boot camp would’ve set us all up for something like this, but there was no way not even the beefiest champion in the world could manage the struggle of dealing with this kind of mission. But it had to be done.
I exited the vehicle with Solomon. The ‘point’ I needed to get to was right there at the threshold of the door. Those were my coordinates. I needed to keep my composure, and don’t ask me why…. But I instantly thought of Dad. And what he said. It was so clear to me.
I walked up to the door, rang the doorbell, and took my peaked cap off. The sky was blue; I, however, honestly felt grey inside. It was surreal.
The door opened, and I thought I was going to see a parent in front of me. No. It was a little girl in a bright blue dress.
I got to my knee at their doorstep. Max sat earnestly, wagging his tail, next to me.
That little girl…. She was so radiant. With blonde hair like wheat and eyes as green as the sea, I couldn’t imagine saying anything at all, but I had to. Solomon did everything he was supposed to do under the azure sky as always — provide hope.
I pressed my lips together…. She had to be…. Maybe ten years old? So ironic ….
I wasn’t expecting her to see into my eyes exactly the struggle I was going through; and she did just that, because the brightness seemed to melt away at that moment…. I couldn’t help but feel sorry. Feel the pain. All over again. Only I was that much stronger to stand and fight against all of it.
I looked at Solomon one more time…. Trying to keep my composure in his darkly bright eyes and fervent personality. The past flooded all back to me. And I quickly hugged that little girl hard. That’s how I hugged. Everyone dealt with it.
Yeah, Dad. I feel you, too. I see the point. I understand now.
Originally published at https://medium.com on March 19, 2020.
