I Came Home From Overseas Expecting to See My 1969 Corvette Waiting

a child who understood what home was supposed to mean.

It was the open garage door.

Wide. Exposed. Hollow.

I stood at the end of my parents’ driveway with my duffel biting into my shoulder and my boots still carrying the dust of three airports and two foreign countries, and I looked at that open door and felt something drop out of the bottom of my chest.continue reading …