How We Died

“Hey Joshy!”

It was the middle of Autumn in California. My father and I took Joshua from the outer islands down to the mainland. I was five he was seven.

“If we ever join the military do you think we’ll ever come back?”

“Megs, of course we will. That’s what makes us who we are. Soldiers.”

“Do ya think we’ll ever get married?”

“Nah!” he said.

I threw leaves at him. He threw the leaves back.

The thing about this story was a few years later we grew apart to our late twenties.

We didn’t talk.

I was in college and they had me and him going in the military at the time.

The last thing I remembered was him crawling out of the hole with me and his left arm blew up out of the mine fields.

He had been a lefty for the longest time and he loved to write.

The last thing I heard remembering was that he told me was to shoot him.

I kept my promise.

We promised each other if we didn’t come out right, we’d shoot each other.

Baby, I love you.

And it’s over.

And I know you’re up there gettin’ judged going to heaven and smiling down at the crew an’ me.

I died because of brain damage minutes later. It was collateral damage on the field.

And that’s how we died.

We were back home.

Just the two of us with my daddy watching us jokingly playing in the leaves.