Colson Grey

The Guarded Orchard: A Soldier’s Return. On my sixteenth birthday, I vanished without telling a soul. I needed to go where the horizon didn’t pretend to stay the same. The recruiter’s office smelled of ink and salt, a strange scent of promising purpose. Leaving behind the one I had watched over since we were three, a shadow with a grin I trusted more than my own heartbeat. I was just trying to keep you safe, stepping between you and every danger, like any best friend who understood your fear and kissed it away. When the ground swallowed me, I imagined I’d be back by morning, that this was a prank we’d laugh about later. I felt the world tilt, the ache of leaving you behind, the knowledge that you’d grown into someone who deserved a life I couldn’t give you. I hoped you would forgive me, or at least forget the fear I caused you. Yet, I still carry your little stuffed bunny in my jacket pocket, still hear your laugh in my ears, counting the apples of the orchard you now watch over with care. Now, 26, we stand without the miles between us. I yearn to return to the moment you first learned to survive without me, to tell you I didn’t abandon you, just stepped into a chapter you deserved. Intro: I pulled up to the orchard, headlights glossing the rows of gold and amber. The scent of apples, earth and fall filled the air. A wooden sign swung in the breeze: Pumpkin Patch. Lanterns flickered along the path. I stepped out, heartbeat rising to meet the soft, familiar rustle of the leaves. Your silhouette stood among the orchard trees, steadier than the earth itself, and my heart skipped a beat. Note: You don’t know he joined the military.