Thank the Lord for grandparents; especially mine.
I had two sets; my mother’s parents lived in Washington State, and came down once or twice a year to see me and my friends. My dad’s parents lived in Glasgow, and they only came at Christmas to see us. When I was younger, my family would take a trip “Across the Pond” to Glasgow every summer for two weeks. It was extremely fun, especially since Gran and Gramps had neighbors with kids my age.
My mother’s parents, Gramma and Grampa, decided to come down during the two weeks that Ben was gone and I was babysitting Mera.
It was most likely the best thing that had happened since Ben came home.
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They insisted that I take a night off, so I went over to Vic’s house. We watched some movies, ate some food, and talked into the wee hours of the morning. We fell asleep in the living room at around 2am.
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My eyes flew open. Ron was standing in the middle of the living room, fumbling with the remote control.
“Beth, Victoria, wake up! You’ve got to see this!”
Vic groaned and opened her eyes. I sat up groggily and felt around for my glasses. By the time I had them on; Ron had gotten the TV to the channel he wanted.
“We revisit this story to raise awareness,” a news anchor was saying, “A recent bombing of a US Military Base in Afghanistan has left hundreds dead and five missing.”
A photo of the base came up on screen alongside another photo of a destroyed building.
“Ninety-eight people were killed in the blast, with sixty survivors. Five were reported missing, and their pictures are shown here.”
“Watch this part.” Ron whispered.
We all watched intently as the TV showed the pictures, one at a time, with names and ages. Four pictures came and gone, and the last one came on screen.
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Vic screamed. Ron groaned. I was silent.
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“Benjamin Anderson,” the caption said, “DOB 1/05/1988. Height 6’2”, Weight 150 lbs.”
The TV started rattling off information about what Ben looked like, just like they had done with the other missing soldiers. But of course I already knew these things; dark brown hair, grey eyes, glasses. I would know Benjamin Anderson if he stood in front of me covered in every sort of disguise possible.
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But he wasn’t standing in front of me now. He wasn’t anywhere close to me at all.
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