To all the men and women of America who served, serves, or will serve their nation. Heroism defies spatio-temporality.
The somber fingers of night crept into my tent. Outside it was so positively dark that there was no light to enter through the flap, leaving whatever did so devoid of any illumination that it was merely a brighter hue of shadow. But even with so little to see by, I could not sleep. My mind pulsed with memories of what I had left behind and what I might never see again. I saw a frenzy of bloody scenes, images of violence and terror and destruction that made my heart race. When I opened my eyes to distract them there only a void around me.
I tried not to think …
I didn't want to think …
I wanted to be far away …
With a sigh I heaved myself to my feet and emerged into the night air. It was warm, but there was a sobering breeze for balance. As temperate as a summer's day … My thoughts were interrupted by a cry from somewhere within the camp, a prisoner's wail. It started out low like a gurgle, rolling into a level shriek, then shattering into a fitful waver from pitch to pitch until it finally died away.
For as long as it had lasted my mind had become consumed by it. It had dragged me into its abyss of misery as if it were all that existed. Now in the regathering hush I found myself back in Afghanistan. Not that that was much better. I was shivering convulsively. Forcibly I calmed my ruffled mind and turned it to other things: reminiscences, desires, dreams, anything but the reality of the present.
I sat or I fell, it could be put either way. One way or another I came to a cross-legged position in the dirt, and after brushing a sharp stone from underneath my ankle I lifted my eyes to the sky. The stars glowed brighter than I had ever seen them; they were the only light within miles. I searched them for constellations, but I wasn't familiar with the night sky here. It was like someone you had never met but who reminded you of an old friend. Yet they were not; these were not my friends. They were strangers, cold and foreign.
During my life I had become intimate with my stars. They had been nocturnal companions, there with me when I was alone in the darkness to console and advise me. Before my marriage they had belonged to me in the darkness; now they belonged to the both of us. But she was not here, and even when I looked for my stars I could not find them.
I tried to peer behind them, piercing the heavenly veil to see what lay beyond …
"Here more than anywhere," I murmured, "you should be able to hear me. Can you?"
The breeze stirred, becoming stronger. On its currents soared a sound, which at first I could not identify; then it became a voice, like the ringing of distant bells or the singing of birds.
A smile crept upon my lips. I said, "You're right. He always can. But can you?"
Fingers of air brushed along my arm.
I took them in my hand, gingerly wrapping my own fingers around the ether. "I know you can."
I said, "I'm sure I don't have to say this. But I miss you."
…
"What do you mean? You're my wife, why shouldn't I miss you?"
…
"But we're not together. I'm here, and you're back home--"
…
"What's that supposed to mean?"
…
"But I am here, right now. How can I--" I sighed as she interrupted again. "All right, all right. Time and place has nothing to do with this--with us."
…
"Beyond the four dimensions, I like that. This isn't spatio-temporal. We're above that."
…
"Look, just because you're wiser and smarter than I am, you don't have to act like a guru. I know you are."
…
"Don't say that. You are and you know it. We both know it."
…
I laughed. "Don't bother to deny it. I don't believe a word of your modesty. I know you too well. I love you too much."
The air stilled. I sighed, planting an elbow on my knee and resting my chin in my palm. "I must be crazy, sitting alone in the night and talking to someone on the other end of the world."
The wind picked up into a violent gust that nearly blinded me with sand.
"Okay, I'm sorry! It's just hard to feel like I'm not alone. You must know that. You must be feeling the same."
…
"Am I forgiven?"
…
"I love you." Without a pause I added, "The stars are beautiful tonight."
…
"No they're not always. Only when I'm with you."
…
"You're right. They always are, then." I swept a hand across the sky as if to gather all the heavenly lamps into my grasp. I held out my hand to her again, and her fingers brushed up all the moondust.
We didn't say much more. In a state that defies time and space, topics of conversation that pertain to either become null. Besides, such a state is too precious to waste talking too much. Each moment seemed an eternity of quiet ecstasy. I just wanted to savor every one before morning.
When a yawn sundered my lips, sending tremors throughout my body, I knew it was time to turn in.
"You're still there, aren't you?"
…
"Sorry, it was a stupid question. I'm practically asleep, I can't think straight. I should be going back to bed, I guess. Big day tomorrow."
…
"I just want to tell you one more thing before I go."
…
"I think you were right. Or are. Probably doesn't matter which. If our love defies spatio-temporality like you said, it defies tense, too. Were, are, will be, doesn't matter. No, I know you're right. Our love isn't here or there or now and then, but ubiquitous and always. … Oh, I know I sound ridiculous, but you make a poet out of me."
…
"I didn't say a very good poet. You say these things better. I'm trying to think of the right word to put it all in, but I can't think of one. Our love--it's--it's--"
…
"Ethereal. Yes, that's the word."
…
"I love you. And you don't have to say anything more … because I know you love me, too. I'll come back to you, alive, don't worry about that. But not until I've done something to make the world a better place for you to live in."
…
"All right. For us to live in."
Her tone was as smooth as the aery stars, washing over my heart and lifting it up into the Heavens. Warmer than the breeze but as soft, her breath tickled my ear as she whispered,
"Be safe, love. I just want you home. I don't need a hero."
"With your strength behind me, you'll have both."
I brought my hand to my face. My lips met my palm in a yearning kiss, and I let the wind carry it away. It was the best I could do for now. But I would do better.
"Good night, darling."
I'm not sure which of us said it or whether we both did. Saying nothing more I rose and returned to my tent. Sleep took me into its embrace, as welcoming and warm as my wife's waiting arms.
Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith 
Edited by Nuile Writerson, Feb 10 2013 - 04:57 PM.
