Army Green

She was covered in her favorite color, army green. By the car sat enough luggage to last for years, she was leaving again. I stood in front of my grandma on the front porch, her hands placed on my shoulders. Together we watched as my mom packed her things in a jeep the same color as her uniform. Once she was all packed she entered the jeep on the passenger side and then waved goodbye. The engine started and she began to drive away.   Instantly I pushed away from my grandma and ran after her. With her head out the window she yelled “ I love you baby” and before I could say it back she was gone. This wasn’t the first time they took my mom away from me. They said she was their solider and she was some kind of hero. To me she was my mommy but I guess they needed her more then I did or at least that’s how it seemed. My mom left me several times before. Each time was like the last, I would cry a little then we would talk every chance she had and I would be okay. Not this time, this time something was different. My grandma grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. Night rolled in and with it came an unpleasant silence throughout the house. The only thing I could hear was a soft whisper and cry coming from my grandmother’s bedroom. Peeping from the side of the doorframe I could see her praying. She was praying for my mommy’s safety in Iraq because she knew there was no promise of her return. That’s what was different this time. I found myself staring at the white walls in my room the rest of the night. I didn’t want to sleep because I didn’t want to dream of what she was going through. To imagine her alone at night with bullets flying around her or even being aimed at her, drained every ounce of happiness out of me. I lived each day in silence. Everything around me was a blur; it was as if she had left me in the dark, no dawn, no day. I attempted to express myself by drawing: something I once had a passion for. Yet, I couldn’t, all I wanted was to talk to my mom so...