He couldn’t call Enola to say he loved and hated her.ĭylan turned back to a picture of “Little Boy.” Ted had tried to tear it out, but it was glued so fiercely he could never lose it. Once he had barricaded himself in the basement for three days.
Ted was buying a house, having kids in photos always squinting. “For country,” her teeth chattered.ĭylan flipped pages. Still she smiled, always the cheerleader. In another dream the blast melted her flesh and he held her bones. That was real, adorned with white ribbons for peace. Ted recalled his hands in her fine red hair. But he knew he had felt her cheek and held her strong back. ‘Teddy, she said, ‘Heroes do what they must.’” “They say it will be like looking at ten suns.”ĭylan, annoyed, tugged more and pointed to the name on the plane. Ted flinched and raised the big sunglasses. He was fascinated by the long airplane with soldiers standing beneath. He sucked them like a baby.ĭylan flipped through the pages of Ted’s life. His great grandson, Dylan, fed him Cocoa-Puffs. He liked to watch over the hills for approaching storms.
