Jesus, Sis and Me

In the midst of all this, Slim called -- several times -- and Sis ended up going out on a date with him. I knew it wasn't my place to get jealous, but I noticed she had a plastic grocery bag in her back pocket when she left, and it was gone when she returned. I didn't say anything, but it broke my heart.

*****

There's not much left to tell about Sis and I, and God has left the building, so I'm closing this out for now. If she ever decides to break it off with Slim and practice making babies with me, I'll update my journal. Until then, I just take it one day at a time, because that's all we can do, isn't it? The one thing I've learned from this adventure is the power of love. I understand now why men fight for love, and die for love, and I know the torture of doing nothing and watching love slip away. It's a slow death, a death that leaves you alive, but empty as a bird's nest after they've all flown away.

Curious about whatever became of Bobby and Sis, I went through the photographs one more time. In one picture, a young lady and a tall, gangly guy with a crop of blond hair are standing by the Golden Gate Bridge. I took them to be Sis and Slim. In another, there's a young man in military cammo gear in what looks to be a desert in the Middle East. I took that to be Bobby, especially in light of the other items in the box.

Buried under the baseball mitts and the notebook was a pair of military dog tags with the name Blunt, Robert. There was also a wadded up piece of paper. I was going to throw it in the trash, but something told me it might be important. Opening it carefully, I discovered it was Bobby's death notice from the US Army.