War and History Non-Fiction posted May 14, 2023

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This is a true story.

August of 1969

by Regina Elliott

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.

The house was empty. That was until

my mother and I came back from the

supermarket with cleaning supplies

for our family's moving out. When we

spoke, our voices seemed to bounce

off the walls of the small rental home.

It was a hot and humid August day of

1969 in the town of Massapequa, N.Y.

I had turned thirteen years old that

summer.

My mother went into the bathroom

to clean the toilet and shower. She was

just a little out of sight. The Archie's

hit song, "Sugar, Sugar," was on the

transistor radio. Yet, I felt a sadness,

a heaviness thicker than the humidity,

in my heart. It was like a thorny vine

tightening around it.

I began to hear my mother, a

strong woman, weeping. I heard her

flip-flops snapping as she walked

into my view. Her golden beehive

had become disheveled under her

Paisley kerchief. Her eyes were

bloodshot, streaming tears. She

could barely speak, but I already

knew what our sadness was.

She said, "Our soldiers, our

soldiers so young, getting shot,

dying!"

We embraced, weeping-

as the English sparrows trilled

and squirrels playfully chased

each other in the suburban

yards. The neighborhood was

so quiet that day. It was the

closeness, the union of our

grief. News photos of youthful

U.S. soldiers were in my vision.

They should have been going out

on dates, tossing a football,

running into the surf. They

shouldn't have been in the

shocking chaos of the

Vietnam War, in the steaming

foliage, Agent Orange, the

constant spectre of death.

American flag-draped

caskets keep coming off of

the planes, stop it, stop it!

Since when is war something

to celebrate?! Jesus, my Jesus,

the human toll of war sorrows

Your loving heart, and ours too.

I haven't seen my 90 year

old mother in over 30 years,

as sometimes families scatter.

But, I'll never forget, Mom,

that August of 1969 day.

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Although we're estranged, Mom,
I still love you, and the sorrow
of the Vietnam War still haunts,
and I'll never forget that August
day of 1969. ~

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This is a true story.

August of 1969

by Regina Elliott

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