You, Joey.”“But I'm not the same man.”“Yes you are. Whatever you can or can't do, I love you.” I leaned down and kissed him. Joey kissed me back pretty hard, the way he did a couple of times the night before he left for the war.When we let go, tears rolled down his cheeks. “I'm going down to physical therapy tomorrow, and I'm going to work until I'm healthy enough to take care of you, if you still want me.”On Easter Sunday morning, Mom, Dad, and I piled into the back of Joe and Marge's car to meet Joey for services at the hospital chapel. He was beaming, obviously very excited, but he wouldn't say a word as he led us back to his room on his cane.When we got to his room, he sat in his armchair. “I can come home next week,” he said.“That's great news!” my dad exclaimed.“They said if I could do something, I could go home, so I've been practicing a lot.” He stood up and hobbled over to where I was sitting. Trying to mask the pain on his face, he got down on his bad knee. His. Warmth and darkness surrounded me. I could hear voices that seemed to be coming from far away, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Where was I? Was I dead? What happened to me? I struggled to remember, to pull myself out of the void. I tried to holler "here I am", but I had no voice. Then, absolute blackness enveloped me and took me away.Light coming from somewhere, too bright! Turn it off! My warm protective darkness drifted away like a dissipating fog bank, replaced by noise and pain. Come back. Don't go."Major Crawford, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"A hand tapping on my arm, a voice, soft and gentle. "Go away, let me sleep" I try to say, but nothing comes out."Wake up Major Crawford. Open your eyes for me." More tapping, light and soothing, almost like a caress. I struggle to make my eyelids obey and slowly they open and my eyes begin to focus and blurred images begin to morph into shapes, a kind female face peering down at me, a warm hand resting on my.
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