Happy Father

I thought because it's Father's Day I could salvage an extra hour of sleep, but I failed.

I woke myself and held myself responsible. There's only me to praise or to blame.

It was still dark out. The Taliban were still in their caves, as was Al Queda. I couldn't see them but I knew they were there.

My love for little birds, from smaller to smallest, was vanquished when two of them started singing what isn't a song in the tree right outside my window, the very moment I felt safe enough to close my eyes and try to sleep again.

The situation on the ground and in the air was hopeless, there would be no more sleep.

So I surrendered and opened my eyes to watch the morning light as presented by the military-industrial complex. The first thought I had was of my own two sons, fine men, much better than I, in the hope that they were sleeping much later than usual and would wake up hungry to know their own lives and the lives of everyone they loved.

I lay in bed like this for the longest time, both awake and asleep, an almost completely free man actually happy with how he's living his life.