Homecoming

A letter to home.

Dear Dad,

For every fight we had at home, i'm sorry. I'm sorry for every harsh word, every cruel utterance. And I know you are too. I saw you crying. What a terrible son you raised. But look where I am now. They said it would be hard, and it was. Every scratch of barb-wire, every bruised knee, it wasn't for Uncle Sam, it was for you and me.

It was hard. Such a simple thing to say, but it really was. I hoped you'd be there for graduation. I hoped and hoped for naught. I know what you must feel, and I want a second chance. A chance for you to see me again. See this crisp uniform and smile. They'll even pin my medals on my chest.

You said I never gave you anything, and that has stuck. Not a bit of good, not anything to pass on. I finally know what I can get you Dad. A flag, Sergeant Dotson pulled some strings to get to it himself.

I'm coming home.