Free The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 by Latrivia S. Nelson Page B

evocative images that flooded his mind from the war back in Vietnam.  Sometimes, he swore that he was right back in the country again as a young man with his friends and his enemies piled together in one big heaping shit storm.  He wasn’t even going to get into all the things he had seen since then.  It was enough to make a grown man cry.  And sometimes, he did.  But he refused to just give in.
    Giving in was a sign of weakness. 
    Weakness was not a sign of valor. 
    Valor was something that he held on to regardless of retirement.  Otherwise, what would all the years that he had dedicated to something other than his family have been worth?  That was a question for the ages, and he was too smart of a man to go looking for answers.  He was too old and too tired.  Besides, one thing he was not was a philosopher.  He was no Gandhi, no Aristotle, and no Garvey.  He was a Marine.
    He had, however, learned how to handle the dreams, instead of the other way around.  Strangely enough, he had picked up this meditation method from some highly educated hippie on a plane once, when he was headed to Camp Pendleton to see his son, using a commercial airline.  The hippie, who was no more than 30, was also some new-age doctor who probably only ate organic and shopped at one of those frou-frou grocery stores that Diane always wanted to go to. 
    On the plane ride, Jeffery had fallen off to sleep and was experiencing a nightmare when the hippie doctor woke him up by placing his hand on his.  At first touch, he was awake.  Then he looked down at the man’s hand and then back at him to give him the “Don’t touch, don’t lose your hand” face when the man quickly explained that he recognized Jeffery’s symptoms.
    “All you need is 60 seconds after you wake to process what you have just experienced and move back into a calmer reality.  But you have to give yourself at least 60 seconds,” the bearded man with a man-bun and glasses had explained. 
    So, Jeffery did what the man suggested.  Despite his feelings about hippies and their love-the-world theory on life, he tried the exercise and he’s been doing it ever since. 
    And five, four, three, two, and one. 
    He rose slowly from his slumber and stretched out his long body, relaxing tense up muscles as felt the smoothness of the sheets covering him. Rolling his neck, he took a deep breath and centered himself.   Alas, he was back into his calm reality. 
    It was a new day, plenty to…
    Wait. His head turned on a swivel. Where in the hell was Diane?  She had promised him that she was going to come back after the kids had fallen off to sleep for a little alone time.  Evidently, she had fallen off to sleep instead.
    Sitting on the side of the bed, he planted his feet on the floor and curled up his lips.  The room was nice enough, but he was spoiled and wanted to be back at home where he woke up to the smell of coffee and Diane cooking breakfast.  He missed the view from his bed of the vast Atlantic Ocean in the distance and sailboats peacefully passing back on greenish blue water under puffy clouds.  Even being away for a day was…burdensome.
    As he stood to make his way to the bathroom, he heard a key jam into the lock and the knob twist to the door.  In came Diane with Bella in her arms.  She looked like she had been up for at least an hour, all bright-eyed and full of life.  But that was always Diane.  She was always up at the crack of dawn and the last one to fall asleep; still she always looked like a million bucks. 
    “Morning sleepy head,” Diane said throwing her over-night bag on the end of the bed like it weighed 1,000 pounds.  She gave him a look as if he was supposed to immediately take it off her hand as soon as she entered the door.  
    He ignored, but completely comprehended the look.  “Morning,” he said, yawning.  “Where is Cameron?” 
    “Still asleep next door. I didn’t want to wake him until the last minute.  It took