Far From Home

[Doug McIntire]

I passed them on my way into the local Wal-mart, they on their way out. It was seven o’clock in the morning and they were already carrying a twelve-pack of beer each, dressed in their blue shirts with a patch over their left breasts declaring their names to be Jake and Ike. Their hands were grimy – down into their pores – from their labors; mechanics of some type in a trade that probably made their fathers proud. It would have made my father proud too. And but for a twist of fate, I would have followed in his footsteps and could easily count these men friends as we carried our beer out together after a grueling nightshift. But I followed another path, becoming an educated man, driving my minivan, sporting a shirt that promoted my daughter’s swim team, becoming soft around the middle, and realizing that I was far from home.

[Brittany]

... as a bayou girl in the Middle East, I too am far from home. This was a great read.