And maybe I didn't need to be him again.
Maybe I just needed to stop being ashamed that it existed.
Claire smiled sadly.
“You seem happy.
“I am.”
She nodded.
“I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”
“I know.
We sit quietly.
Fourteen years of marriage were reduced to two people drinking coffee on a small table.
When we finally stood up, Claire hugged me.
I hugged her back.
Then we said goodbye.
I went out alone.
My knee still hurt.
I probably would always do it.
But I no longer considered the sagging weakness.
It was a test.
Proof that he had been somewhere.
She survived something.
And he kept walking.
One year after the divorce, I received an invitation to speak at an event
of business of
veterans.
Before I got on stage, I caught my reflection in the glass.
Grey hair.
Scarred knee.
Work boots.
