by Vickie Clasby

Hard as this was, it was for the best. Just wasn’t meant to be, he reckoned.

Carl packed his comb, toothbrush, his few shirts, and his Bible in his suitcase. At least Mama would be glad, he thought. The peaches would be ripe enough to pick in just a couple of weeks.

Uncle Albert took a whole day away from the farm to drive him to Raleigh. He wasn’t happy when Carl called again, asking for a ride back. It was going to be a long ride home.

Carl wanted to be a soldier since he was a boy. That’s all he wanted to do since his daddy was killed in the Gulf War. A funny sound in his chest, the doctor called it a ‘heart murmur,’ ruined his dream.

He climbed into the old pickup. Uncle Albert looked straight ahead. “You know your mama needs you at home, boy.”

Carl stared out the window as the bus to Camp Lejeune pulled away without him, and rumbled on, out of sight.