My Daughter Called Me From A Hospital Bed

Pale. Shaking. Her arms showed rough handling. Her white dress was torn and stained.

My daughter.

The same girl who used to call me every night during deployment just to describe the sunset. Who drew pictures for soldiers and taped them to our fridge.

Now she couldn’t lift her head.

“Mom…” she whispered.

I crossed the room. Held her. Her whole body trembled.continue reading …