“Dan Fogelberg!” my dad called out to me from across the room.
“Yep, right, once again.” I laughed. Guessing Christmas songs off the aim radio was always a holiday game to us, and by now my dad was a pro at it.
Christmas this year would be different. Zach and Laura stayed home for the first time- their baby that was announced last week was to stay in Denver.
“Are you staying up for Santa this year?” My mom joked.
Deep inside I knew Christmas this year wouldn’t be the same as the previous ones. Dad could be called off any day, any second, as soon as their was an uprise in the goverment.
“You’re lucky to have him this Christmas,” people tell us. Are we? I never knew. Would it be any different if he stayed in Iraq and his presents stayed unopened in his room for another long 18 months?
Maybe, maybe not.
For now, the camoflauge jumpsuit stayed hung in the closet. For now, the steele-toed boots stayed in the mudroom. For now, the gun lay across the mantle quietly.
But for how long?