Status: Completed
Matthew Andrew Carter
Matthew Andrew Carter
My name is Allison Rose Carter. I’m like most girls. I have a family. A mother. A father. A brother.
I also have a best friend. The last two just so happen to be the same person. My brother, Matthew Andrew Carter, is my best friend.
The date is September 11, 2009. It’s been eight years since tragedy struck America, killing thousands of innocent people. Nothing anyone could do about it, really. Nope. Nothing anyone could do about planes crashing into buildings. Nothing anyone could do about thousands of people dying.
And nothing anyone could do about Matthew having to go to Afghanistan.
Matthew is twenty-one now. He left almost three years ago, when he was eighteen. He never went to college, like I’m doing now. He couldn’t see me on my birthday, or even attend my graduation.
Matthew writes us letters often. Always saying he’ll be home soon. He’s been saying the same thing for months. His soon is obviously not the same as my soon. I’m ready to see
him now. Right now. Not tomorrow. Not even within the next hour.
Now.
I’m sitting in the grass, twirling a smooth, green weed around my finger.
See, I live on a ranch, so there’s plenty of open fields. No one around. It’s easy to hide where no one can find me.
Except for Matthew.
Matthew and I have a tree. Our own little tree, in which we’ve carved our names. This tree is the one I always go to. Mom and Dad don’t know, of course, or else they’d know where to look when we’re grounded or just trying to get away from chores. But Matthew knows where to find me.
Always.
I’ve come out here everyday since he left, thinking that maybe if I wish hard enough, he’ll come back home.
The smooth grass felt nice under my bare calves. Laying there, reading one of Matthew’s most recent letter.
Allison,
I know I haven’t written lately. I’m sorry if I’ve worried you, Mom, and Dad, but it’s been hectic.
This war is getting worse. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen. So wonderful and tragic.
All at the same time.
I’ve made new friends.
Listen to me. I sound like a twelve-year-old who’s gone away to Summer camp. If only.
Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon. Tell Mom and Dad I love them.
Matthew
Like I said. Always saying he’ll be home soon. Never putting the word “love” at the end. He always said it was too sissy of a thing for a guy to do. I’m just ready for him to be home.
Home.
That’s probably where I should be.
I stood up, fixing my skirt and flattening my hair back out. I grabbed my bag and put Matthew’s letter into it. I starting walking towards the house, which was about a five-minute walk to get back to. And I looked up.
Matthew.
Matthew Andrew Carter was standing in front of me.
At first I was sure I was seeing things. And then he said my name.I wasn’t hallucinating.
It was him.
His hair was a little longer, and he’d lost weight. But there he was. In his favorite shirt, one that I had bought him the Christmas before he left, and an old pair of jeans.
I dropped my bag and ran towards my best friend, as he ran towards me. I jumped into his arms, and he easily caught me, spinning me around.
He was home.
Matthew Andrew Carter.
My brother.
My best friend.
I also have a best friend. The last two just so happen to be the same person. My brother, Matthew Andrew Carter, is my best friend.
The date is September 11, 2009. It’s been eight years since tragedy struck America, killing thousands of innocent people. Nothing anyone could do about it, really. Nope. Nothing anyone could do about planes crashing into buildings. Nothing anyone could do about thousands of people dying.
And nothing anyone could do about Matthew having to go to Afghanistan.
Matthew is twenty-one now. He left almost three years ago, when he was eighteen. He never went to college, like I’m doing now. He couldn’t see me on my birthday, or even attend my graduation.
Matthew writes us letters often. Always saying he’ll be home soon. He’s been saying the same thing for months. His soon is obviously not the same as my soon. I’m ready to see
him now. Right now. Not tomorrow. Not even within the next hour.
Now.
I’m sitting in the grass, twirling a smooth, green weed around my finger.
See, I live on a ranch, so there’s plenty of open fields. No one around. It’s easy to hide where no one can find me.
Except for Matthew.
Matthew and I have a tree. Our own little tree, in which we’ve carved our names. This tree is the one I always go to. Mom and Dad don’t know, of course, or else they’d know where to look when we’re grounded or just trying to get away from chores. But Matthew knows where to find me.
Always.
I’ve come out here everyday since he left, thinking that maybe if I wish hard enough, he’ll come back home.
The smooth grass felt nice under my bare calves. Laying there, reading one of Matthew’s most recent letter.
Allison,
I know I haven’t written lately. I’m sorry if I’ve worried you, Mom, and Dad, but it’s been hectic.
This war is getting worse. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen. So wonderful and tragic.
All at the same time.
I’ve made new friends.
Listen to me. I sound like a twelve-year-old who’s gone away to Summer camp. If only.
Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon. Tell Mom and Dad I love them.
Matthew
Like I said. Always saying he’ll be home soon. Never putting the word “love” at the end. He always said it was too sissy of a thing for a guy to do. I’m just ready for him to be home.
Home.
That’s probably where I should be.
I stood up, fixing my skirt and flattening my hair back out. I grabbed my bag and put Matthew’s letter into it. I starting walking towards the house, which was about a five-minute walk to get back to. And I looked up.
Matthew.
Matthew Andrew Carter was standing in front of me.
At first I was sure I was seeing things. And then he said my name.I wasn’t hallucinating.
It was him.
His hair was a little longer, and he’d lost weight. But there he was. In his favorite shirt, one that I had bought him the Christmas before he left, and an old pair of jeans.
I dropped my bag and ran towards my best friend, as he ran towards me. I jumped into his arms, and he easily caught me, spinning me around.
He was home.
Matthew Andrew Carter.
My brother.
My best friend.