One Morning After the War

I remember the Luger well. Darth Vader himself would later tap into its dark power, which was mesmerizing to us even at that tender age.

Brings to mind my memory of meeting dad for the first time when I was three years old, early one morning after the war had ended, you and I asleep on the daybed in the living room over Einstein’s drug store.

In the thin morning light of my memory, the sound of knocking at the door roused us out of our sleep. We awoke to see a soldier, duffel bag on his shoulder and ribbons on his chest, standing in the doorway. “Hi, boys.”, he said, and I started to cry. I was scared to death. I had no idea who this man was, but he seemed to know us. He sat down on the bed while you tried to calm me down; Mom came running into the room.

The memory fades at this point. As usual, you will have to fill in the blanks.

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