How can this not touch your heart? May it end soon – Editor
In my dream, the war was just a distant thunder. All four of us, a family, gathered in our living room to open presents and celebrate your thirty-ninth birthday. So big, so joyful was your smile when you said, like many times on the phone, that you wished for nothing but to be home with us.
I opened my eyes and stroked your pillow, with one short, fair hair still clinging to it. The air alert sirens wailed as if somebody was going to steal my country, but took you instead. “Happy birthday,” I whispered to my forever young husband.
I opened my eyes and stroked your pillow, with one short, fair hair still clinging to it. The air alert sirens wailed as if somebody was going to steal my country, but took you instead. “Happy birthday,” I whispered to my forever young husband.
