r.kv.r.y. quarterly literary journal (Summer/Fall 2007)
At six-thirty in the morning, Jim's grandchild Andrew was crying in the back bedroom. Jim lay still in the dim morning light, while his wife Betsy got out of bed and padded away. The baby stopped crying. Jim heard Betsy murmur something, and then his daughter-in-law Valerie mumur in reply.
And now that he was truly awake, the realization shifted into his consciousness. Their son Scott was not in the back bedroom, where he had slept every summer of his life while they were in Stone Harbor. Scott was in Iraq.