Mom was frightened. She went through each
day's chores with her mind divided between fear of what might happen
to Dad and pride that "her man" was going to "fight for freedom".
I knew nothing of these struggles, though. I was loved, held, cuddled, fed,
and sheltered from any pain or worry. I was not even two years old. What
could I know of the world?
She took so many pictures of me. She would write captions on the bottom of each one before sending them to Dad.
Each day Mom showed me a picture of Dad. "This is daddy. He had to go away, but he'll be back as soon as he can."
Dad in uniform after basic training
