It was like winter wonderland. It felt good to be home again. It was December 1946, a little over a year since the war ended. He didn’t think he would make it but he did.
He looked around him, at the snow covered landscape. Never again would he take this place for granted. He touched the right side of his face. The skin felt rough. The explosion which had killed his buddy had scarred him for life. It had changed his future too. The girl he was going to marry couldn’t cope with the scar or the stump which used to be his right hand. Maybe it wasn’t fair to expect her to look past the scarred, crippled person man he had become and remember the young man whom she had pledged her love and fidelity to.
Continue reading at Deborah’s Deliberations