Along the Coast

A gust of wind catches the letter and throws it back against my chest.  I grab it with my hand.  Gently, I fold it and place it back in the envelope.  Benny’s eyes are fixed on me.  I smile and hand the envelope back to him.  He places it in his satchel.

I offer my hand.  Benny takes it.  His touch is no longer cold.  He leads me down the path to an outcropping in the grass.  A pile of neatly stacked rocks and a cross made of twigs make a memorial here.

“Was Alex a hero?” asks Benny.

I struggle with a half smile.  “He was more than that,” I answer, “he — he was a soldier of duty.”

We spend some time by the memorial.  Not a word passes between us.  The wind turns colder.  I place my free hand in my coat pocket to warm.  I feel something inside.  My brow curls in puzzlement.  I lift an object out of my pocket.  It shimmers in the dim light.  Instinctively I offer it to Benny.  He looks up at me in surprise.  He takes it and places it around his neck.  Tears fall from his cheeks.  “Thank you,” he says wiping his eyes.

Benny pulls at my arm.  We walk on.  A can see a familiar looking house in the distance.  It is clear to me now: There are stories to tell, events to recount, and lives to reconcile.  The hour of my reckoning is upon me.
 

The End