[November 9th, 2021]
I wake up to my soft bed. It's morning and I'm at my apartment. I've already completed OSUT. My 5-day leave has been pretty uneventful. Just the normal. I mean, me, Brandon, and Jess went out once or twice but that's it. Apart from that nothing has happened. I haven't talked to my parents, so maybe I'll do that. I also wonder how Maple is doing? I was never able to get her phone number, and I definitely should've asked. It's been kind of boring. Ever since I've gotten out of the hospital and went to basic, I've been active. I also need to stay in shape. I flip my covers over and sit on the edge of my bed. "Should I call my parents?" I think for a moment. It wouldn't be bad, and since my father is starting to talk to me more, I could talk to them. Maybe I could go to their house. That way, I get some cardio, and I can talk to my parents. I reach for my phone and call my mother.
"Hello?" "Hey, mom. Can I come over there for a bit?" "Well, we're doing some house cleaning right now, so I'm not sure that we'd be able to talk much." "It's fine I can help." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I've only got 4 days until I have to go, so I'd at least like to spend some time with my family." "Alright. that's fine." "I'll be there in a little while." I hang up and set my phone back down. I hear the creak of my closet as I open it. I'm not sure what to wear, but they're my parents, so there's no need to worry about it too much. I throw on some jeans, an army t-shirt, and brush my teeth. As I exit my home, I look to the left and see my vehicle. I got it before I graduated. It's not much, just a crown victoria that I bought for cheap but I don't think that I'll be using it today though. My parent's house isn't that far from here, so I'll run. I begin running in the direction of my parent's house, and as I'm running, I get to thinking about what I've gotten myself into. Something that I've been doing a lot. Are there really things so horrible in war that it makes grown men doubt humanity itself? Things that make grown men break and revaluate their lives? I keep trying to comfort myself by lying. I keep saying that It's just a humbling experience, But at this point, I know better. The basic training alone has already messed me up. I've been waking up way too early, so early that it has to be unhealthy. I've been waking up as early as 03:00 and going to sleep as late as 23:00. That being said, I've been running off of as little as 4 hours of sleep a day. I've also noticed that I eat my meals much quicker than before my training. Jessica mentioned that the way we respond is much more straightforward and snappy too. I snap out of my trance as I approach my house. I walk to the front door and knock. My mother answers, as usual. "That was fast." "Really? I just ran here." She looks at me, appalled by how I got here. "Well, come in." As I enter the house, I see my father vacuuming. He just looks at me for a moment and waves. "I'll go clean out the garage." "Alright." In the garage is a car and many boxes surrounding it. There are tools out and around, and a tri-fold flag sits on a desk with a stained paper. I always knew we had a tri-fold flag, but I never knew where from. I move to the wrench laying beside an old bike and pick it up. I circle the garage, picking up tools as I move until I reach for something else. Laying in front of me, in its holster, is a Beretta M9. I've heard a lot about them since they're being replaced by the M17. It's a 9mm pistol that entered service in 1990, replacing the 1911A1. I set the tools down and pick it up. I look at the bottom of the grip and then rack the slide. The slide locks back into place. Well, It isn't loaded, but that doesn't explain why it's here. I knew that we had a rifle, but I never knew that we had a handgun. To add to it, the grip on it and a few of the other nooks and crannies of the weapon have sand in them. Not everywhere, it looks like the weapon's been maintained pretty well. Now back to the sand. The sand looks like it's been on the weapon for years. The sand has darkened, and it's taken on the same appearance as the stains of a childhood toy. It just makes me wonder, how long has it been here, and where did it come from? It doesn't just look like it's been here for years, it must've been here for years, so I guess that answers one of my questions, but it doesn't help me understand where it came from. I glance back to the table and look harder at the contents laying on top of the smooth surface. There's an odd gold and purple item in a box or case. I set the handgun down and start to make my way towards the item when the door opens. I look to it and my father is there. He looks at me with the same expression that he always wears. "Are you ok in here?" "Yes, sir, why?" "I just felt like checking on you." I look towards the handgun and then back to him. "Did we always have a handgun?" I see multiple emotions flash over his face. Shock, fear, saddness, and nostalgia. I mean, it'd definitely make sense. He was an officer for a while, but then we'd have a 1911, not an M9. He recollects his emotions and answers me. "Yes, we have. I just never thought that it'd be worth mentioning." "I see, well I should be going then. Sorry that I didn't do much to help." "It's alright." As I bid farewell to my parents I think. Now that I think about it, my father was never really friendly or close until I enlisted. I wonder what's up with that.