[If it wasn't bombs, it was gunfire and tanks in the streets. It hadn't seemed anything strange, anything wrong, because it's what he'd known. Until he'd been old enough to understand the way his mother would look out the window when the rapport of gunfire was too close, or why his father stayed up so late sometimes, chair positioned by the door to the apartment, expecting a raid that day based on rumours or someone else's over-vigilance. He'd barely gotten that grasp on it all before it became so real in an instant.]
It should not have bothered me like it did. The shaking, the noise.
[But he'd been away from it long enough that he'd started to feel safer, had enough peace, something else to think about. And part of him forgot.]
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[If it wasn't bombs, it was gunfire and tanks in the streets. It hadn't seemed anything strange, anything wrong, because it's what he'd known. Until he'd been old enough to understand the way his mother would look out the window when the rapport of gunfire was too close, or why his father stayed up so late sometimes, chair positioned by the door to the apartment, expecting a raid that day based on rumours or someone else's over-vigilance. He'd barely gotten that grasp on it all before it became so real in an instant.]
It should not have bothered me like it did.
The shaking, the noise.
[But he'd been away from it long enough that he'd started to feel safer, had enough peace, something else to think about. And part of him forgot.]
I have, and I want to keep it.