Lazy Procastim0us - ...Home (unfinished)

>Over 8 years since you’ve last been home.
>...8 long years.
>You are- were Sgt. Anonymous.
>U.S. Marines.
>6 combat deployments.
>Numerous awards and medals for bravery and heroism.
>Hell, you even earned the Navy Cross for saving your platoon.
>...And many physical and emotional scars.
>Just 3 months ago, you were in country.
>Now you’re in a train, heading for home.
>Home.
>The thought of it puts a lump in your throat.
>A lump of nervousness.
>By the time you hit the fleet, the war had already started.
>All available troops were needed.
>This made it almost impossible to keep contact.
>Contact you couldn’t keep.
>You lost all contact with friends and family 7 years ago.
>Contact with the ones you missed.
>...Cared about.
>And especially...loved.
>You tried to find the time to call, but the training and work ups kept you from doing so.
>It became too much.
>So you ended up cutting your ties with them.
>Something….you don’t want to regret.
>”Arriving shortly at Canterlot.” They say over the intercom.
>You’ve faced a determined enemy that would stop at nothing to kill you and your boys.
>Had rounds and explosives go off all around you.
>Had Death stare into the very depths of your soul one too many times.
>Yet, you’ve never flinched.
>You were ready to die at a moments notice.
>But, the thought of returning home…
>...The place where you grew up, and had all those wonderful moments of memories past…
>Leaves you shaking.
And almost to a point of profuse sweating.
>Will your parents recognize you after all these years?
>Friends you’ve known your whole life, will they remember you?
>Or will they resent you for ‘abandoning’ them?
>The thought of that saddens you.
>You’ve never forgotten them.
>You always thought about them, even in the most intense firefights.
>Reaching in your pocket, you pull out a treasured photo.
>One of you and your childhood friends.
>A picture you took everywhere with you.
>One that was taken the day before you went to boot camp.
>And the day you graduated.
>A reminder, that no matter what, you will always have someone there for you.
>”Arrival at Canterlot Station.”
>Here’s your stop.
>Getting off your seat, and heading to the mechanical door, you wonder what your arrival will have in store for you.
>Stepping out of the train, the familiar scent of your birthplace, sends you on an adventure of nostalgia.
>So many wonderful memories.
>Ones you want to relive.
>You make your way to the exit, and hail a cab.
>One stops, and the driver steps out.
>”Hey, Marine. Need help with those bags?”
“Yes, I do. How’d you know I was a Marine?”
>”82nd Airborne, U.S. Army. Fought alongside some of your guys in a firefight once. Saved my ass that day. The look they had that day was the exact same one you have.”
“Nice to know you’re ok. How many tours?”
>”Just the one. Grenade went off near me, shredded my back with shrapnel. Got some nerve damage, just enough to a point where I couldn’t wear a flak and was unable to fight.”
“Medically discharged?”
>”You know it.” He says as he loads your last bag. “At least the disabilities good. What about you. How many?”
“6 tours.”
>He lets of a whistle at the amount you mention.
>”How’d you manage that?”
“When the Marine Corps needs you, they’ll send you however many times they deem necessary.”
>”Yeah? Well fuck that. I don’t know how you Jarheads are capable of fighting so much.”
“All the stress and anger built up from constant bullshit will do that to you.”
>You both have a short laugh, then proceed to enter the taxi.
>”Where to?”
>You give him your parents address, and then head off back home.
>”What brings you around here?” He asks.
“...Just coming home.”
>”...How long?”
“Come again?”
>”How long’s it been? You know, since you’ve been home?”
>You ponder the question and realize just how long 8 years is.
>8 years of missed birthdays, both yours and loved ones.
>The times you could’ve spent with them.
>All that time spent in a nightmarish war.
>”If you don’t want to talk about it-”
“8 years.” You cut him off.
>”...Must’ve been real hard on you, not seeing your loved ones for so long.”
“...Could’ve been worse.”
>It should’ve been worse.
>Don’t think that way.
>You were fortunate enough to live.
>...Were you?
>”Here’s your stop.”
>You’re snapped out of your thoughts at the sudden realization that you are home.
>...Home.
>You and the driver step out of the taxi, and unload your belongings.
>You are about to pay him, until he stops you.
>”No need. You’ve done a lot out there. The least I could do is give you a ride home.”
“Thank you. Names Anonymous.” You say as you extend your hand in gratitude.
>”No problem.” He says as he shakes your hand. “The names Eddie. Eddie Mann.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Eddie.”
>”Likewise, Anonymous.”
“Maybe we could have a beer someday.”
>”I don’t see why not. Here’s my number if you ever want to hang out.”
>He jots down his number on a paper and hands it to you.
“I’ll see you later, Eddie.”
>”See ya.”
>He leaves, and you face the home that you grew up in.
>Never have you had such an urge to cry since the day one of your boys got killed in action.
>...It’s now or never.
>You approach the small picket fence, and open the small gate.
>Some things look familiar, but much has changed since you’ve left.
>Standing in front of the door, many thoughts go through your head.
>All of which you do not wish to happen.
>Raising your hand, you knock.
>”Just a second.”
>That voice!
>Your mother.
>How much you’ve missed her.
>It’s getting difficult to control the tears.
>The door opens, and you are face to face with your mom.
>She looks at you with tear filled eyes.
>And without a second to waste, hugs you tightly, and cries on your shoulder.
>You embrace her with a hug of your own, and let your tears flow freely.
>It’s all too much for you to handle.
>After about a minute of mixed emotions, your mother is the first to speak.
“A...A...Anon.” She says in between sobs. “I...It’s been so long.”
“I know mom. I’m...I’m sorry.”
>”Sorry? Sorry about what.”
“...Losing all contact with everybody.”
>”It’s ok. You don’t have to be sorry. You’re home, and that’s what matters. Be glad that you’re safe and sound.” She says with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.
>You are happy that you’re home.
>But the thought that many others aren’t, doesn’t put you that at ease.
>”Come in, come in.” She gestures. “I would’ve cleaned up sooner, but I didn’t know that you were coming back.” There’s a hint of sadness in her voice.
“It’s ok, mom. Just being here is enough to make everything better.”
>You know that’s not true, but seeing your mother sad, you’d do anything to lighten her mood.
>”I wished you were here sooner.”
“Why’s that?” You wonder.
>”Because all your friends were here a while ago.”
>Your heart skips a beat.
>Your friends...here?
>Why?
>You’ve thought they might’ve forgotten you and moved on.
>You have to know why.
“W-Why were they h-here?” You ask nervously.
>”Our weekly get together...and prayer moment.”
“P-Prayer? F-For who?”
>”...You.”
>How did you not know that?
>A prayer for you.
>A small glimmer of hope that you were still out there.
>They still had hope that you’d someday return.
>A day that you’d come home.