by Domenic Luciani

Created on: October 15, 2009   Last Updated: October 21, 2009

"Ahh.."

My life has lead to this point. A chipping wooden lawn chair that hovers over the greenest patch of grass I have ever seen. A flannel shirt keeps me warm as I sit on the chair. Its not exactly comfortable, but I don't mind. This scrap of earth is all I need. It's dark out, not even morning yet, but as old age gets the best of me, I find this time more and more relaxing

A breeze drifts by, scattering the red and orange leaves at my feet. It raises goose bumps on my arm, but again, I don't mind. This world has taught me that these small things are nothing to worry about. My memories drift through my mind, never finding a place until I remember them. My life was sad, but I survived. Every moment that scared me, or pained me, in the end, I guess they were what got me here. And now I sit, in my chipping little lawn chair, gazing out at the most magnificent view, and in someways, this is truly the end of the road.

I was in the Vietnam war. A Navy veteran they said, some even said a hero. I'm no hero. I learned that after I killed a man for the first time. I knew that after that, I never wanted to see another war again, but I did. More than my fair share you could say. Ive seen people die more times than I can count too.

I never see the old boys from the platoon anymore though. Most of them died I guess, in some way or another. I'm not sad. My friends and I decided long ago that when it was our time, we would accept death willingly, and we did.

And I just now nearly missed it. That one moment where everything in life seems so calm. That brief moment as the sun peaks over the tops of the trees and scatters light in tiny patches among the vibrant hues of the fall leaves. It skitters across the pond before me throwing a path of the purest light reflecting up from the crystal water.

"Out here again Joe?" called a voice from behind me.

A woman approached, I could here here footsteps as they crunched the leaves and stiff morning grass. "Just saying good morning to my friends." I said back.

"What do you mean?" she said as she handed me a warm mug.

I motioned in a wide circle with my arm, "The trees and the rocks and the leaves, there all my friends."

"Joe, I think you're starting to go cenile." She said worriedly

I chuckled softly then returned my reminiscing stare at the water. The mug in my hand tingled with warmth after being frozen from the frosty air. "Anne, I don't think you would understand, that even though I cannot have a conversation with them, and they will never comfort me when I'm sad, or I, them, but still, they are my friends nonetheless."

"Joe, of course I understand, I've been married to you for fifty five years, I know you better than anyone."

"Of course you do, how could I forget that." I smiled.

Soon there was a familiar scratching at the window pane door of the cottage.

"Oh, that'll be Brandy, I swear that dog acts as if we'll have heart attacks every time we're not within five feet of him." Anne laughed.

She started to walk back to the cottage. Time moved in slow motion.

At first the leaves stopped rustling. Then there was a gasp, and the sound of something heavy collapsing into the leaves.

"Anne. . . ANNE!"

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