The Red Ball

"Catch it Johnny," Mom called.

The red ball arched toward me.  Mom had thrown it underhand, not too hard, not too high.  She was trying to make up for Dad not being there, trying to do "boy" stuff with me.  It didn't come easy for her though.  Dad was serving another tour of duty.  I missed him a lot.

"Got it." 

Mom had a big smile when I tossed the ball back to her.

Mom missed Dad too.  Bringing me to cub scouts, she'd talk about how he looked taking me to meetings before shipping out. 

"Here it comes again," she shouted.

We were in our front yard, behind a small wall.  There really wasn't a back yard.  The red ball stood out sharply against the blue sky.

"Got it again." 

Another smile from Mom. 

Mom said that military pay didn't provide enough money for luxuries.  So we lived across the bridge from town.  Less expensive Mom said.

"And here's a really high one.  See if you can get it."

"Got it."

I expected to see Mom smile again, but her look was anything but a smile.  She was looking behind me.  I turned.  Two soldiers were getting out of a car.  Neither was my Dad.

One stayed outside with me, while the other went in with Mom.  I heard her cry out.

Dad didn't make it back home.  From then on, I didn't get to do much "boy" stuff, becoming the man of the house.  Over the years it's become difficult to remember my Dad, but I remember that red ball against the blue sky just as sharply as it had looked that day.