My son has gone to war, and Fear (who was once an occasional guest) has become a permanent resident in my home.

When I was a child, I sought him out. He thrilled me, gave my mundane life a little excitement. He taught me many things, protected me.

But now, well… I dare say I’ve learned enough, and I’d rather have the mundane life I sought to escape during my childhood.

Fear became a more frequent guest when my son was born. He stuck around longer, spent the night a few times. But he always went home after a while.

Not now. Now he’s here for good, and there are only two things that can drive him away. My son can return safe, having served his country and been honorably discharged. He could find a decent job stateside, where the threat of bullets and shrapnel and bombs aren’t as present…

Or…

Well, I’d rather not think about the alternative.

I’m sorry, please excuse me. My guest has entered the room. I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with him around.

I’m sure you’ll understand.