Friday, March 2, 2012

"Vietnam Baby Crib"

I never thought I'd have to spend that $200.  As I held the check and letter in my hand, tears came to my eyes.  The worst of it was that the money was symbolic of so much than a perished friend.  Bob was gone forever.  Gone, not only from us, but from the bloody strife where many of his friends still lingered.  Before he and my husband left, Bob had told me about the small fund.

"I want you to buy a crib for Christine, if I don't come back - if I do, she'll just have to keep sleeping in a laundry basket!"

His mood had been light.  But war is not.

Now I had to buy that crib for my daughter.  And pray that her father would come back.  He, like Bob, was a helicopter pilot and Vietnam was not kind to pilots.

Of course, neither was their country.

Copyright 2012 by Jordanna P.


  1. This is excellent, Jordanna! It's good writing; it really sets the mood and even, in just that little bit, I am brought to know what Bob was like. Definite sense of backstory and future story to come!

  2. Thanks Perry! Bob was a very real and very kind person. There is a ton of story to go with this!
    Aren't you going to post a scribble?

    1. It sounds like there is a ton of story! Will you be writing it?
      I will be posting my scribble shortly...

  3. Wow, this is the making a beautiful story!