Dear Nate {Dear #1}

-Chapter 10-

Here's the next part. School wraps up in two weeks, I can't believe it, so I will not upload anything until school is out and summer starts. I hope to finish this during the summer, but I don't know. Things happen.

Thank you so much for the support this far. I'm shocked and humbled.

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-DANA

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In the morning, I wake up to my mom cooking me breakfast. “Something smells good,” I say happily as I walk into the kitchen. I stretch my arms and back out before sitting on the kitchen counter.

            Mom smiles, “I figure this would be a great beginning to our mother-son day.” She then turns and hits me with the kitchen mitt. “Get your butt off where food is put.”

            I jump off the counter and lean against it instead with my arms crossed against my chest. “You seem happy. Did anything happen?”

            “I’m spending the day with my son! Of course I’m happy.”

            I sit at the kitchen counter as my mom fills my plate up with pancakes and sausage links. I fold my fingers together as I look around, the calendar catches my eye. Today, April 5th, is the day my dad is supposed to call. I knew something got Mom into this happy mood.

            “When is Dad calling?” I ask, looking at my mom now.

            A small smile appears on her lips. “Seven o’clock tonight.”

            I don’t know how my mom can do it sometimes. My parents have been together since college. Mom has told me how Dad decided to go into the military when I was younger and didn’t understand why my dad wasn’t here. I give my mom credit. I don’t think I could let my wife go off to fight; not knowing when is the last time I will talk to her or see her.

            “Do you think he’ll actually call this time?” I ask, not meaning to be rude.

            Mom, however, took it that way. She throws the hot pad on the counter, her hands making their way to her hips. She doesn’t turn around right away. I can tell I’ve pissed her off. I know how vulnerable she is about Dad not calling because she feels dishearten too when he doesn’t, she just doesn’t say it. Mom takes a deep breath before turning to look at me.

            “Your father is trying his best Nate. Sometimes things come up where he cannot call. It is not his fault if he doesn’t call,” she says slowly, calmly.