I'm In World War I

Here we are in the trenches. You and me. Probably during World War I. We’re in a trench in a vaguely Central European land. What we’re doing is poking our heads up at normal. Because I am sick. It’s not uncommon or untold for those of us in the trenches to catch something. It’s only a matter of time. Now the saving grace is that I’m only going to be sick for another day or so.

It’s allergies or something akin to it. Congestion. One side of my nose is closed up. It’s as if I had lost an eye. Half my world went dark. I’ll stand up and poke my head out of the trench and the whole western side of the world is dark. Anything could reach out and end my life. I took for granted all the years and decades that I was able to see the full horizon. It’s as if half the sun has disappeared.

If the sun ever disappeared, I’d look back and realize how little I appreciated it. Imagine if, while I was walking, mowing the lawn, or driving to work, there was a little pop. Like a distant balloon meeting a sudden end, and then everything went black. Both eyes would blink, expecting, hoping, and then praying that the light would return. But it would be nothing. The steering wheel right in front of me, gone. The lawn mower. The walk I started turned into a horrible place where everything familiar became un.

Luckily, it hasn’t happened yet. I continually hope whatever force or god, or God, keeps up the good work. Because this is how the normal goes. It’s normal until it’s not. Every now and then I’ll have a realization or revelation of what it could be. Better or worse. It does depend on the day. There are uphill days and downhill ones. Compounding. That’s when I have to change the normal as I’ve realized I’m far from Kansas and Dorothy’s telling me life’s not worth living.

I’m in a very dark place.

I can’t see out of one eye. I’m in the trenches. Presumably World War I, but then again, I’m not sure it really matters. There’s an endless maze of holes in the ground off to the east. Thousands and possibly hundreds of thousands of other soldiers all looking at me. To the west, darkness. An endless possibility of dangers looming, either miles away or right before me.

But then suddenly, the war is over. My nostril is no longer blocked. I can breathe. It’s all over. The sun is back. There’s no point in staying in the trenches anymore. The war is over. I’ll sail back to the homeland. Step onto my front porch. The one I grew up on, where I was raised from a child. The same one where I’ll reach down and grab my own child. Tossing them into the air and letting the laughter raise me up to new heights. And once I’m there, I’ll promise myself I’ll never take it for granted. Until next time.