Memory

There is a memorial plaque in town. I pass it regularly. I remember. I remember a sunny Saturday morning drilling at the firehouse. I remember swearing loudly and running to the engine when the tones dropped. I remember almost overshooting the address, and I remember the horrid moaning sound the engine's radial tires made as… Continue reading Memory

Normandy

He sits in his hospital chair, staring out past an uneaten breakfast at the city skyline beyond. Frank starts slightly as we enter the room, then turns and smiles. Our routine has begun for the day. He's a slight wisp of a man, now. Twice my age and half my size, time and disease have… Continue reading Normandy