"HUGS!"
I am not likely to write of memories beyond a certain point. My father was a man who beat me so hard at age six I bled from the cuts from the buckle on his teamster belt. He told mom he was going drive out a demon in me. (I’m afraid it was in him!) I spent my nineteenth birthday alone on a jungle covered hillside hiding in a thick bush from a patrol of Cong with a dead enemy soldier beside me.
I came home to hate and ridicule, where on nearly every TV show had every nutcase was a freaked out Nan vet killing innocents. I was fired for being a vet, and old friends shunned me out of fear I was going to freak out on them. I toured the world, working my way around it by taking any and every job possible. I did it, not to see the world so much, as to find some peace not to be found in my own country.
Memories can oft be flights of fantasy, but they can also be tours in an old and all too familiar hell. There is little I care to recall too clearly, and certainly not publically.
We were having a very good conversation until I brought up memories. So sad to hear of your memories....not good! I guess we forget that some just do not have the sweet memories that I do and others do. And there are many others who have memories such as yours!
But Johnn, you have overcome and are so talented in so many ways in life and let’s be grateful for that for today! You have many talents besides your writings. We will try to concentrate on the good and be thankful for today as best we can! May sunshine be on your shoulder from now on. ~smile~