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amazing.  I didn't lose anything physical.  Mental and emotional?  Sure, but physically I was still all in one piece.  But not the same.
 
                  They physical therapy was working.  They said it would take years.  I could already get around pretty good.  Just not good enough to be a Marine.  Damn.  It hurts to say that.
     
                  They treated me good.  Even offered me a desk position.  Pogue.  Fuck that.  I'm not sitting at no damn desk.
     
                  Then they offered me disability.  Said I'd get paid a monthly check the rest of my life.  I said thanks, but to hell with that.  I ain't disabled.  Maybe by their standards.  Not by mine.
     
                  I'm not bitter.  Just wish I could be back with the boys.  Smokin' and jokin.'  What I'd give to be in the field right now eating one of those shitty MREs.  Those things stay good for what seems like 100 years.  Just heat 'em and eat 'em.  Sometimes you can't even heat 'em.  Just take it how it comes.  Worry about the upset stomach later.  Just hope it doesn't come in the middle of a firefight.
     
                  Funny thing was the guys all called me Pistol.  They would give anything for their M-16s.  Me?  Give me a Glock 19 and I'm good-to-go.
     
                  The girls used to call me Pistol.  The ones back home.  For a different reason.  Somehow I can't escape that damn nickname.  I'm not complaining.  There are worse things to be known for.
     
                  So here I am.  Frontier Airlines flight 556.  Two hours and 15 minutes non-stop to Denver.  The longest 2 hours and 15 minutes of my life.  And also the shortest.  Because as soon as I land.  It's over.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

                  "Pete!"
     
                  "Please ma'am.  Stay back."  The security guard may have been 6'5", but you can't measure the love a woman has for her child.  Abby broke right through his attempt at a forearm block and embraced me in a huge hug.  Well before I had entered the official greeting area.

              My mom didn't give a shit.  I was her son.  Her only son.  Her only child.
     
                  "Welcome home, Pete."  Jonathan extended his hand.
     
                  "Thanks, Jonathan."
     
                  His handshake was as firm as ever.
     
                  "You're not just running that place from the office I see.  I can see you're still a hands-on kind of guy."
     
                  "I am.  It's my passion.  Plus I love building things with my hands.  That's how I got into property development in the first place."
     
                  Emily flashed me a smile.  She hadn't moved.  About 10 feet in front of me.
     
                  She was wearing a white summer dress.  It came to just above her knee.  There were some flowery patterns at the bottom and around the shoulders.  Other than that it was as simple as could be.  Simple, but sophisticated.  Just how she had been when I last saw her.  She looked beautiful.  Stunning.  My legs may not yet be at 100%, but my other appendage in that area was definitely standing at attention.
     
                  She had kept her word.  We had wrote to each other for the last five years.  Growing even closer.  While the boys were out tearing up the town and relieving stress at night I was penning letters.  I took a lot of shit when my best friend Corporal Bryce "Hollywood" Henderson caught me, but I didn't care.  Ol' Hollywood was too busy dressing up like a movie star and charming the ladies.  He was made for California and California for him.  He even consulted on a few action films in his spare time.  Couldn't do it