The Depot*

There were no flags or banners
No parades
When I got home.
I stepped onto the platform
At the depot
All alone.

I didn’t tell dad I was coming.
He couldn’t know
I’d be home so soon.
Only my shadow
Was there to greet me
That blistering August noon.

The Army gave me a new uniform
With ribbons
And shoulder patch.
I had a few bucks in my pocket
Some Lucky Strikes
But no match.

I walked about an hour
To get back
To dad’s small farm.
My shadow followed me
All the way
With my duffle bag on my arm.

Dad must have seen me coming.
He bolted
Like a shot out the front door.
He ran down that long driveway
Even though
His health was poor.

Dad grabbed my duffle bag
From my shoulder.
He kissed my neck and face.
His tears wet my ribbons
As I fell
Into his embrace.

Twenty four hours later
I was dressed
In my old blue jeans.
Dad and I went into the fields
And made war
On the summer beans.

Sure, sometimes I have nightmares
Of things I saw
Some things I had to do.
But, all in all, I’m fine now.
And the dreams
Are getting few.

The years have flown so swiftly.
Dad passed
A long time ago.
But there are moments
My mind flies backward
To that lonely train depot.

They tore that thing down
Last winter.
They even ripped out the tracks.
I guess what life has taught me
Is the mistake of
Looking back.


*A day late for Veteran's Day...but I hope not a dollar short. This post is lovingly dedicated to my dad, Cpl. H.L. Woods (WWII, ETA), and Cpl. L. Gillespie, (Vietnam), United States Army.