
Rain pelted the windshield of the old Datsun splintering the light from on coming traffic. It was very dark and cold as my father and I drove from Lexington to Danville; the windshield wipers kept a steady beat over the hum of the engine.
"So I got everything together and had all my gear sitting in the living room ready to go. We waited that whole weekend for a confirmation call and orders about my departure; fortunately it never came. The Army had decided to take a unit from Bardstown, Kentucky that we were attached to...but not us."
I looked over at Dad and said, "Wow, that was welcome news."
"For me...You bet. But not for the poor guys from Bardstown. A number of them got killed over there."
"Really?"
"Yep, Bardstown has a monument to them and everything."
It got very quiet inside the little Datsun as I mulled that over. Finally I said, "Dad if you had gotten killed over there I would never have known my father."
The silhouette of Dad's head nodded, and I watched as he took another drag off his Winston, the tip glowing, painting his face blood red. "Oh it's worse than that son. This was before you were born. Had I been killed, you would not exist."
I would not exist. Turning away I looked out the passenger window, watching the water bead and run down the glass. Somewhere out there the green hills of Kentucky were rolling by, but I couldn't see them for the darkness. I could only see my face reflected in the glass, illuminated by blue light from the dashboard. A ghostly vision of myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment