Veteran.

Americana Injustica

I remember screaming loudly in angry disbelief from the swing on the playground,

“Hey! That’s our lunch!”

I also recall nearly twisting myself from the swing in mid-air as I turned in childlike desperation to find my Papa (my Dad’s Dad) behind me, not seeming to give two shits that a bum was stealing the picnic lunch that took the entire morning for me to assemble to perfection.

“Papa…that man is taking our lunch from the table! Look, Papa, Look!”

My grandfather continued to push me higher on the swing, in spite of my exclamations; he never even looked over in the direction of the table (or our lunch) that I noticed, he just kept pushing as I sailed forward and up again on the swing. He had this way about him, though; an almost unsettling calmness woven tightly into his characteristic traits. Nothing seemed to ever really upset him…

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2 thoughts on “Veteran.

  1. charlypriest says:

    I remembered this post, and it was in 2013! Man, that long we have “met”? Time flies.
    Alll these years…… marry me. Always wanted an all American girl, blond blue eyes, and tough as nails in your case. Hope you´re doing good.
    Stay Frosty gentess, love ya

    Liked by 1 person

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