HOME | DD

Description
Every time. Intense, overwhelming. It’s hard to know what to feel.

Laura kept walking toward her car. Well wishes and smiles thrown casually in her direction, without care for whether they landed, or any reaction invoked. Foolish neighbors with no understanding of how fortunate they were. How much better their lives were. She pulled her hat off and raked her fingers through her short blonde hair, suppressing a curse.

She ducked inside the little silver sedan, pausing only a moment in the sudden silence to grip the steering wheel and breathe, twice, deeply and slowly before cranking the ignition over. The car stuttered to life, and the radio croaked as well. She had hoped for something more useful, but she knew she shouldn’t have. Never turn to the news for something to brighten your day. It was the same incessant irrelevant dreck that came from the neighbors.

The drive was slow and exhausting, and the emotional turmoil churned her spirit the way bile churned her stomach. The sun beat down mercilessly, warm and smiling, with no regard for how she felt. No one else seemed to understand and the thought that everyone else was enjoying themselves was infuriating to her.

Oh, she could probably ask her brother or her sisters to come with her for support, but they wouldn’t understand. Her parents would tell her it was a waste of time. Her friends probably wouldn’t even look away from their Facebook or Instagram profiles long enough to hear the invitation. It was easier this way. She thought the same thing every time, and each time she felt a swell of sadness that it didn’t seem to matter.

She parked the car partway up a hillside and climbed out. A wave of heat washed over her as she left the relative cool of the car’s faulty air conditioning. She pulled her cap back on against the sun’s glare, adjusting twice to get it right before beginning the laborious trek to the top of the hill. The same walk every time, mostly frustration that she always did this by herself.

At the top of the hill, she turned back to look toward her car. Beyond it she could see a lot full of cars, shining and clean. A sign overhung the lot which read, “Happy Memorial Day - $1000 Off Used Cars.”

Laura turned around and her gaze swept out over ruler-straight rows of headstones; thousands upon thousands marching into the endless distance. Her vision went blurry and she didn’t even try to blink the tears away. People can forget the purpose of other holidays all they want, she thought bitterly, but they shouldn’t forget the purpose of this one. It’s not a fucking celebration. It should be the longest moment of silence we have all year. It should be a week long, a month, hours a day all year long, until we get it right.

She finally blinked, and tears rolled wetly down each cheek. She had never lost family or friends to violence, war or otherwise; had never even had someone close to her affected by such things. But standing here looking at too few flags or flowers, and worse, too few visitors, Laura simply couldn’t cope with the tragedy of it all. It was ridiculous, disrespectful—wrong.

She thought about the happy car sale taking place behind her and looked out over the sterile lines of those gone before—and saluted.

“Wish you were here,” she stated, and then in a whisper, “That would be a happy Memorial Day.”