I had a creative writing assignment in English, so I wrote this. I own nothing. And the POV is Tim O'Brien.

A Brief Visit Home

Coming home was never easy. Ordinary things reminded me of the battlefield, and I felt like a stranger in my own home.

Sometimes when I sat by myself, I wondered what my life would've been like if I had jumped in the river and swam to Canada.

I would head to the nearest town and try to find a job and an apartment. It would have been a boring desk job, but it paid well and I could live off of it. The apartment would be a small one bedroom; one bath that I had to pay the first month's rent before I even moved in. Every morning on my way to work, I would stop at the café on the corner and get a muffin and some orange juice for breakfast. Lunch and dinner would be whatever I could find in my fridge or cabinets.

There was a sweet, cute single girl down the hall from me. We would always run into each other in the mornings. At first the elevator ride would be awkward, but after a few weeks, we would start to joke around with each other. After a month or so, I would ask her out, and we would go on a few dates, and hopefully, in time, we would get closer and I would be brave enough to tell her why I was in Canada.

"Welcome home, kid," dad said, clapping me on the back.

My parents waited at the airport for me with a change of clothes. I was happy to finally change out of the uniform I had been wearing for months.

I walk into my house; nothing has changed, which was comforting. I was home. I was in familiar territory. I knew what to expect.

The entire time I was home, mom talked about the goings on in town; mom and dad kept saying how proud of me they were, and dad kept asking about what I did over in Vietnam.

I would just shrug and say that we patrolled a lot. They didn't need to know that I had nightmares most nights about the people I've killed or the mutilated bodies I've seen.

After a week of being home, I realized how boring it was, but it was the good kind of boring where you don't want it to end.

I didn't get my wish.

After two weeks on leave, I was scheduled to go back to the front. Mom and dad drove me to the airport and wished me well, hugging and kissing me. I hugged and kissed both of them back. I had no idea if I would get to see them again.

They both waved at me, smiles on their faces, as I walked onto the airplane to head back to a war with an unknown meaning.


I hope you enjoyed this. At first I couldn't write it, but last night as I was falling asleep, I wrote the first little bit, then revamped it this morning for class.

Until later,
~Lord Rebecca-Sama aka Rebecca