Just Be

Feet gracefully danced over the splintering wooden rails that line the edge of the flowerbeds. At least, these had once been flowerbeds… now they hold dirt and decaying leaves along with the upper half of an angel statute that had once sat on the front porch of their home. It wasn’t worth it to maintain anymore but it still held the memories of its past bright and vibrant personality. Her eyes flickered to the window of the upstairs bedroom before she diverted them once again to the dirt around her.

She grew up watching war movies - living in a world of black and white dramatized violence. While she may have barely passed every science and math class in her schooling career, she knew history like the back of her hand.

From her spot perched on the railing she could see the flowers hanging upside down in the window. Roses, lilies, maybe dahlias? She personally hoped they were carnations. Carnations always dried up nicely even if they did make the biggest mess afterwards. She was half surprised to see the flowers hanging up there. Dried flowers had always had some allure to her, but her parents hadn’t even been particularly fond of the idea. They’d always just gone along with it for her sake.

She grew up chasing frogs and butterflies – living in a world where there was always something that need to be captured. While she didn’t entirely understand the game of catching wildlife, she knew it well and always enjoyed as a child.

At the edge of the flower bed railing, she moved into the gravel driveway. Her feet moved eloquently between the patches where the gravel had been pressed down over the years by her own doing. Once upon a time she remembered when her father would put down new gravel every year and get the old tamper out of the garage and level it all out. She tried to tell herself this was better, but secretly she missed the smell of the diesel fuel burning in the rusted machine. She pressed her hand against the bumper of the old truck in the driveway. A perfect handprint was left behind in the pollen that coated the metal.

She grew up listening to stories of the good ol’ days – living in a world of images that she could only just imagine. While she never felt like she made her own stories in her youth, she knew she could recount the ones she’d heard without any trouble.

The small walkway that lead to the garden had fallen into disuse ages ago. Why hadn’t she noticed before? She had helped put down this walkway. She’d dug up dirt and laid down a base coat of stone underneath the pavers. Afterwards, she’d smudged dirt underneath her eyes and called herself a tribal warrior. Ironic almost, all things considered. Now the path was mostly covered with weeds. She kneeled over and pulled out a handful before realizing that she dislodged one of the pavers. She sighed and stood up again looking at the disruption she’d made in the path. There she went again, disrupting something peaceful…

She grew up hearing stories from the military men – living in a world where it was honorable to serve. While she doubted the sanity of war as a child, she knew now that it was a necessary evil that the world wouldn’t be able to escape.

Tomato cages sat in a tangled pile on the edge on the garden and the dirtiness of it all reminded her eerily of the frontline. It wasn’t familiar to that at all, but for some reason that’s what she thought of. She sat down in the dirt and buried her hands feeling the warmth of the soil that was buried underneath the dry top layer. Her eyes flickered shut and she tried not to think about it too much, but the images were there. She could still feel the blood on her hands, her face, everywhere. Her hands instantly pulled out of the dirt and she tried to wipe it off of her face. There wasn’t anything there, but she needed to get it off anyways.

She grew up believing that war was glorious – living in a world where right and wrong were black and white. While she survived her tours and had done her duty, she knew she was never going to be the same again.


“Momma! Momma! Look at the parade!”
“Oh wow, I didn’t realize they’d started already.”
“Look at George in his uniform, Momma! I can’t wait for my turn in the parade. And there’s Kelly!”
“They do look nice, don’t they?”
“Where’s John? This was gonna be his first parade, wasn’t it?”
“Honey, remember John’s not coming home.”
“Oh right… I’d forgotten. I guess it just didn’t seem real.”
“I know. But there’s his mother. And look, she’s got the bouquet you designed for her.”
“A bouquet’s not John though.”
“That’s war though, dear.”
“I’m gonna come back Momma. Don’t you worry about me. You’ll get to see me in that parade. Just wait.”
“I ain’t concerned with no parade, sweet pea. You don’t need to be no war hero for me. Just be my sweet little Brianna and I’ll love you always.”
“But I’m brave, Momma. I wanna show them all what kinda warrior I am.”
“Don’t you ever just wanna be a human though? Settle down and take over the shop for me?”
“Later momma. It’s your shop. I’ve got time.”
“Time passes too quickly, I feel.”


Time passes too quickly. Those words were engraved in her brain. If she could just go back and fix it all. She’d do everything it took to bring them all back. Even if she could just have one more day with them…

“Brianna?”

The voice rung out a melody more beautiful than anything that she’d heard before. Better than the dinner bell when she was younger and the sound of her name as she walked across the stage at graduation. That one word from that one man and her problems melted into the sun. Without even realizing it, she pulled herself out of the dirt and trusted her body to the waiting arms that had always found her as a child.

“Daddy.”

Her face was decorated with dirt again just like it had been all those times when she was a child. Her tears moved freely across her face leaving muddy lines on the soft cotton of her father’s work shirt. His arms embraced her fully and she felt safe. She wasn’t counting down the days until she went back or worrying over how to calm her mother’s fears of her being out in the warzone. For the first time in too long, she felt safe and at peace.

“I didn’t know you were coming home.” He whispered pressing down her hair with his calloused hands. His hands had the texture of burlap sacks. They felt like home.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be at momma’s funeral.” Her tears couldn’t stop and she found herself gasping on air trying to force the words out of her mouth. She couldn’t remember when she last cried this hard. She had so many apologies built up inside of her and they all wanted to raise out at once, but she could barely get that one out.

“Honey, calm down and breathe. You’re going to make yourself sick.” His voice was etched with concern and she looked up at his face. He still looked like the same man he was when she was six. He still looked like the same man he was when she was seventeen. She pressed a hand against her face and took in the new wrinkles, the new gray hairs on his temple, the age that decorated his face in little secret ways that delicately snuck up on her.

“When did you get so old?” She breathed out pulling on the edge of his sleeve and blowing her nose, like he’d taught her to do when she cried as a child.

He laughed softly, she could hear the force behind it. “I could ask you the same question.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and she tried to breathe deeper and slow down the flow of tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered again as she tucked her head under his arm. She felt like a child in more ways than one and tried to hide away her shame – just as she had when she was smaller. She hadn’t been here to say goodbye to her Momma and now she was a crying fool. This wasn’t how she was supposed to be acting.

“Don’t apologize. She was so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.” His words were whispered against her head and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. All the unsaid sorrows between the two of them were squished into the space between their bodies. She felt small and afraid, but at the same time she knew that she was safer here than anywhere else in the entire world.

She grew up loving her family more than anything else – living in a world where she was always trying to give them something to be proud of simply because she felt indebted to them for giving her such a loving home.

“Thank you for everything.” She whispered gently and he only nodded before pulling away from her and giving her a sad smile.

“You are the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. Thank you for making it all worth it.” Her father had never been a huge sentimental person. He’d never been a man of many words. He was a military brat, just like she was. They’d been raised by Marine fathers, the both of them, and had followed the steps of their fathers as well. She wasn’t just a reflection of his life’s work, she was everything to him. Just like she had been for her mother. In her opinion, it was bittersweet how you realize how important these moments are when so many have passed and so few are left remaining.

“I’m so glad to be home.” She smiled brightly at him realizing just how much she had missed this safe haven that was she had lived in over the decades. Her face was still tear stained, her eyes hurt from crying so hard, and her mouth was dry and aching for water. Despite it all, being here made her happier than she thought was possible.

This home had once been filled to the brim with noise and animals. She’d never had any siblings, but had grown up surrounded by dogs, cats, birds, cousins, and family friends. In her youth, there had been days where she couldn’t even move around the house, lest she wanted to run into someone or trip over something. Now it was quiet and practically empty. A singular old man and his golden retriever lived there. An empty bedroom filled with flowers occupied the second floor - flowers from her childhood, her gardens, her parents, and her family.

“I’m so glad that you’re safe.” He smiled back at her wrapping his arm around her shoulder before he began to guide her back to the house. He regaled her with stories of their dogs and filled her in on the petty family drama that he was slowly learning to deal with in the absence of her mom.

When they got into the house, she pet the dog and breathed in the smell of her childhood. A scent that she’d never noticed until she’d been gone from it for so long. The house wasn’t the same. Things had been moved, boxes of extra things packed away, pictures added to the walls, new candles on the counter and Christmas cards on the fridge.

She grew up yearning for a chance – living in a world that she knew was taking her straight to the military. While she thought she understood what awaited her, she knew now that nothing could compare to this.

She wasn’t a tribal warrior needing dirt paint to show off her strengths. She wasn’t an American warrior needing pins or ribbons on her uniform to show off her worth. She was just a small town girl who was ready to take over her mother’s flower shop. She was ready to come home and give up her days pretending to be a warrior. She was ready to just be a human.