LOST ON THE BATTLEFIELD

I’ve turned the light on in the room just bright enough to be able to undress.  I don’t want to disturb my wife who is sound asleep in the bed.  I unbutton and remove my uniform top and ever so gently sit on the edge of the bed to remove my boots.  It was a long day. Really, it was a long year.  Just that morning I made it back from my first deployment.  All I wanted to do was go home right away, but I knew that so many people wanted to see me and catch up.  Couldn’t disappoint them.  So, instead I put on a brave face and made the rounds.  Now all I want to do is take a shower and disappear.  Disappear because I am lost.  Not physically lost.  I am at home, with my wife, and my children.  I am symbolically lost.  I shake my head and finish getting undressed.  I throw on some gym shorts and make my rounds to each kid's room to give them a kiss while they sleep and whisper a good night.

Finally, I run the shower and adjust the temperature of the water.  I slip off my shorts and carefully step in.  The warm water runs down my head and body.  Without realizing it, my mind wanders off.  In this moment I am walking off of the battlefield.  I am tired after a year of stress and anxiety.  I’m tired of countless hours of wearing body armor and a combat load weighing upwards of fifty pounds.  I am tired of the loss that I have experienced.  In this moment, my head bowed with sweat dripping off my face, I take one last look behind me. With this glance I see what I have lost on the battlefield.

The moment overtakes me by what I see.  There’s a mound of me, or who I used to be, in the middle of a small village that has been ravaged by war.  Buildings that used to be homes and businesses are crumbling from the impact of bullets and explosions.  I turn around and slowly walk towards the pile neatly settled in the center of the village.  I kneel when I reach the pile and begin to shake when I see what’s in it.  It’s me, or at least what used to be me.

With a shaking hand I begin to sift through it’s contents, careful to pick up and examine each item.  I soon realize that I am looking at everything that I have lost to the battlefield.  I see my innocence, my curiosity, and free spirit. I see my friends killed by war.  However, what I found at the bottom of the pile was the man I used to be.

I barely recognize what I see.  What I see seems so far removed, but it feels so familiar.  My humor that I once had is there.   The carefree youth that had the ability to make others laugh and smile.  He would joke, sing, and dance not caring who was watching.  Nieces, nephews, and cousins would fall over laughing at his jokes, but now I hurt those that I love.  Moving on, I see my heart.  The love it had and could give.  The emotions it felt.  I put my hand on my chest and feel numbness.  The only emotions that weren’t lost were fear, pain, sadness, regret, and worry.  Not long after, I find ambition and excitement for the future.  The person buried at the bottom of this pile had a plan and vision for the future.  He hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted, but he was damn sure going to figure it out and looked forward to it.  Now, anxiety remains.  I no longer feel excited for the future.  I worry and stress about the minutes, hours, days, and years ahead.  Next to my ambition I find, what used to be, my confidence.  The me I lost held his head high.  Ready to meet every stranger's gaze.  Small talk came easy and he wasn’t afraid to engage in a debate.  He knew what he believed and wasn’t afraid to say it.  Now I keep my opinions to myself and worry what others might think.

A moment or two passes while I am on my knees looking at what I have lost.  Then, in a moment of panic, I grab up as much of the pile as I can and try to shove it all back into my chest.  Over and over I try.  Every time I fail and it falls back to the scorched earth.  The sickening realization hits me.  That person who I used to be is lost forever.  Never to be reclaimed.  Tears stream down my face and I mourn him.  Lost in despair, I see again my friends who sacrificed all.  As I look at them, they slowly transform into an old polaroid picture.  All of them together in a group photo.  I pick the polaroid up and put it into my pocket.  Realizing that who I was is dead and gone, I turn and walk away.

Rain begins to drop.  A slight drizzle at first, but gets steadily stronger as I walk.  Soon it is a downpour and I am brought back to reality.  I wasn’t aware, but, my wife heard my sobs and snuck into the shower with me.  I feel her holding me as we both sit at the bottom of the tub.  All I can say is, “help.”  She smiles, nods her head, and kisses me.