A Turning Point

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man contemplates a brighter future...

Submitted: July 18, 2008

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Submitted: July 18, 2008

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I am tired…so tired. The last several years have been pure hell. Of course, that is being selfish. I am not the only one who had to endure the nightmare. Regardless, I am weary, and I’m glad to be where I am now. I am just…so tired.

 

It is spring again; the crisp air and the fresh aromas are very welcome. It makes one feel so alive! Someone once said that hope springs eternal. I like to believe that is true. Spring speaks of new life, and the promise of a new summer. It is almost possible to forget the troubles of one’s mind. Almost.

 

While I sit here and ponder the beauty of spring, I must ask, can there be anything in this world uglier than war? Such a small word. It is difficult to conceive of the myriad horrible facets associated with such an inconsiderable term.

 

As if with deadly, slithering tentacles, war manages to negatively affect practically everyone even remotely involved with it. It leaves devastation in its wake, both on land and in people's lives. I cannot envision anything more tragic that is so completely unnatural and preventable. War is an invention of man, to serve man’s purposes. Yet, in the end, it is man who suffers most from war.

 

The death, the bloodshed, the shattered lives; it is almost too much to bear. Reflecting upon it all can drive a man mad. Sometimes I think -- however morbidly – that perhaps it is the dead who are the most fortunate. It is we the living who must carry on amid the ruination that war has wrought. Though I did not fight on a battlefield, nor did I lose anyone close to me in a campaign, I know many who did. So many soldiers whom I met gave the ultimate sacrifice. The pain their families must feel is beyond comprehension.

 

I am not without total understanding, though; I can relate to their pain. I, too, lost a loved one during these long, dark years. It is true that our child fell to sickness, not battle, but he is gone nonetheless. It is a void I feel in my soul that can never be filled. I have never experienced grief like that which I felt when I buried my son.

 

So, as you can see, there has been much sadness these past years. But now the war is over, and as I gaze upon the bright sunshine of this beautiful spring day, I believe that we have reached a turning point. I feel hopeful once again. This lonely house in which I live does not seem quite as gloomy and empty. I am sure that the darkest days are behind us, that tomorrow will be better, and each day that follows will only improve.

 

Why, I believe I have even changed my mind about tonight. My darling wife has asked me to escort her to a play. Initially, I declined; I am so tired, and I thought I would get some much-needed rest. Now, though, I think that I will reconsider. Perhaps a night out will be an elixir for what ails me, and will do my body good. I will go and forget about the darkness that has played out, and contemplate the bright tomorrows that are on the horizon.

 

Yes, I will accompany Mary to Ford’s Theater and see the play. It is a comedy, “Our American Cousin”. I could use some laughter.


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