The Window

Mom’s eyes were heavy and a little red as she entered through the front door with a cardboard box clutched in her hands. Dad popped up from the couch and put one arm around her while he lifted the box with the other. The overflowing box, now on the coffee table, blocked my view of the TV. She had spent the day helping Grandma clean out some of my Grandfather’s belongings. Papa passed a few weeks ago. My whole life, all 15 years of it, I only remembered him being frail and confined to his chair. His life was pretty much books, news, and The Price is Right.

Joey peered over the balcony. “Come on down son.” My brother nodded and joined my father and me on the couch. He was eighteen. He could drive a car and had a girlfriend. I was jealous of all the shiny college applications he was getting in the mail. He always got to do more than me. “Hey little brother,” he grinned as he rumpled my hair. “Stop!” I wanted to push him, but caught Dad’s “don’t do it or else” stare.

Mom stood up and smiled at us. “Grandma wanted me to give you some things that belonged to Papa.” She first handed my father a heavy winter coat that was lying on top. Dad was admiring the coat, but my eyes were fixed on the box. She then pulled out 2 white envelopes. On the first one was neatly printed “Joey” and on the other “Jack.” She handed them to us with tears in her eyes. Inside I found a handwritten note.

Dear Jack,

I hoped to give this to you when you graduated from High School. I am writing this letter in case I don’t see that day. I am leaving you $20,000 to use toward college. Use it wisely. Nothing in life comes without hard work. Take care of your parents. Love your country. Love your God.

I love you,

Grandpa.

“Wow!” My brother had received the same gift. He was beaming ear to ear. I hugged Mom and Dad and was in disbelief at the incredible gift.

“Wait, there’s a few more things.” My brother and I sat back down. She handed him a few neck ties. His wide eyes and fake grin told me that he wouldn’t be caught dead in them. She also handed him a box. It was grandpa’s coin collection. Mostly wheat pennies and silver nickels. However, a few of them were worth hundreds, maybe more. Joey and I used to try and look up their value in a little almanac inside the box. He tucked it under his arm and smiled at me. Mom handed me a pile of Grandpa’s art supplies. He liked to sit and doodle on paper. The stack had a few crossword books (grandma thought they would be fun), a few spiral notebooks, a little black notebook, and a pencil box with pens and colored pencils. Joey clearly made out better on this one. We both thanked Mom and retreated to our rooms. We had a few hours before we were going to go over to Grandma’s to thank her and bring her dinner.

I sat my pile on the nightstand and leaned back on the bed. “Cool a buffalo nickel!” exclaimed my brother from the hall outside my room. I picked up the spiral notebooks, and thumbed through the pages. They were mostly blank and had a few sketches of birds. The small black notebook caught my eye. Its bindings worn and the cover a little cracked with age. The first page contained only a date: June 6, 1944.

I turned the page to find myself staring through a large plate glass window. My heart skipped a beat and it felt like my breath was stolen. The glass sheet in front of me was cold. Spray from the Atlantic was ripping against the other side. I ran my fingers down the glass in disbelief. Large naval ships were pushing towards the shore loaded with men. Fighter planes soared overhead. I craned my neck forward with both hands pressed against the glass and suddenly fell through. I tumbled in a spiral, much like falling in a dream. I landed with a jolt. When I opened my clenched eyes, I was seeing through someone else’s.

“Move, Move, Move!” The heavy gear pressed into my shoulders. Screams and chaos were all around. The icy cold rush of water was soon at my waist. “Keep moving! Keep moving!” Projectiles were smashing into the water all around. A soldier to my left lost his footing and fell forward. I grabbed his pack and jerked him upright. The scene that was previously hidden in the safety of the ship was terrifying. The water was growing crimson. Gun-smoke burned my throat. Keep moving. A bullet grazed the water right beside me. Don't run. You’re a soldier. Keep moving. The amphibious ships were disappearing behind me. Deafening explosions were throwing rock and debris on the beach in front of me. Soldiers were disappearing into the sea. German artillery commanded the beach. My hands were white on my rifle. I felt a sharp cold hit my left arm. A few seconds later, burning pain set in. The words “Keep Moving!” screamed in my mind. Stop and you will die. I yelled “Keep moving!” at the top of my lungs while fighting to move my legs through the heavy water. I dropped to my knees in inches of water only to have rocks barely blow over my head. With burning muscles, I pushed up and ran onto the beach with my head ducked down and screaming.

I gasped and jumped back. The window had reappeared. A scene from the history channel was unfolding right in front of me. I tapped the glass and pressed forward, but I…yes me… stayed safely on my bed. The window would not let me in. Words from the pages began to scroll in front of my eyes with Omaha Beach, Normandy in the background.

“The images from this story must stop now. It is too much for my heart to recall. That day countless lives were lost. So much I never want to tell. There is a pain and a pride that I will never adequately express. The same memories that are my most proud also, in many ways, haunt me. I will never forget that day. The dark clouds shadowing a red sea. The sounds of suffering linger in my ears. As I write this, I am safe and warm in my home. America stands beautiful and triumphant. The world needs to rebuild. We need to learn so much. I give all the Glory to God for what has been given to me. Lord please give me the strength to carry on.”

I could see a soldier staring at me though the glass. His eyes looked like mine. Dirt streaked his face. Blood trickled down his arm. His expression was hard.

“Jack, its time to go.” The book fumbled from my hands to the bed. “Whoa! Umm, yeah, mom. I’ll be right there.” I felt a little numb as I left my room and got into the back of the family sedan. Grandma welcomed us with hugs. We excitedly thanked her for the college savings account. I was carrying a box of chicken to the dining table, when I noticed an old photo album lying there. It was bursting with family pictures and mementos. As I flipped the pages, I found a soldier. His eyes were the same as mine and I knew who I was staring at. I placed my palm on the picture and his palm met mine on the other side of cold glass. My grandmother had walked up and put her arm around my shoulder. I knew I couldn’t wait to look through my next window and the person to help me was standing right next to me.