So very well written and so very true!
Some conversations linger after the person who whispered urgently in your ear, clasped your hand until your fingers hurt, has departed, eyes downcast, their pain hidden once again from the world.
A week or so ago a woman approached me at a crowded event. Like a heat-seeking missile, she parted the crowd and came directly to me.
“I read your book.”
I nodded. No reason to ask which book. My Life with a Wounded Warrior is given to veterans and their spouses at the local VetCenter here in Fayetteville, Arkansas. I’d seen that desperate look before.
Her hand gripped at my arm as though she were stranded on a cliff, clutching at a frayed rope. This being, of course, pretty much her exact situation.
I patted her hand, pried her fingers from my arm.
She leaned in, breath hot on my ear. “I can’t do it anymore. His PTSD is…
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