She cradled the phone in her hands. Summer was outside her window. Her baby girl had fallen and was crying. A little boy stood at her feet with a book in his hand. Flowers bloomed and the ancient tree shaded the lawn. Her life had been changed in a second.
The dream had been that they would all grow old separately but that somehow knowing the others were safe would always be a comfort. Then the phone intruded and the war in that far off country moved to her front door. She had been caught in it’s snare. Shot down…14th mission…funeral next Wednesday.
Grief would be a part of their lives for many years to come. She had a life complete with a family and a husband that loved her dearly. Decades had come and gone. Over 40 years with milestones passed and the love of her life at her side. But still she sometimes dreamed about the reunion where they all gathered and laughed at those events that paralleled her own. It was the party that would never happen. The bright shining star had been blown away. One event changed it for them all.
He was one of the first or second graduating class from the Air Force Academy, shot down in Vietnam in the mid sixties. He had graduated from a small high school in eastern Oregon in a class of about 17. Larry Moore was his name.