People always ask me what it was like.

Like I could recount it like a year abroad. Parties, dinners, touring the countryside, meeting the locals. A retreat. A vacation.

I realize that to them, I might as well have been vacationing.

Sure, they know it was difficult. They know to thank their veterans, that I’ve done a great service for my country. They fly the flag and take off their hats and offer their thoughts and prayers.

But really, I was gone a year and now I’m back. Life goes on. They did the laundry and washed the dishes and didn’t think or pray as much as they said they would. Not that I blame them.

Because I realize they’re right. Life really does go on. I do my laundry and wash my dishes and surprise myself with how easily I can forget things.

I live alone now. I drink coffee in the morning and tea at night. I take vitamins. I read mystery books from the library. I go for walks. I see a therapist. I try to forget things.

It’s only when the floorboards creak, when the coffee goes cold, when the chapter ends, I’m back there. That’s what it’s like.