[Askoga]: 89.Short Stories.The Unknown Soldier

Note: In honor of all cancer victims and the battle they must fight. Written while I was on a road trip, last week. A few errors to be fixed at a later date.

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My name is John Langsley, but I know that in the end I won't be remembered.

I fight for my life every day, and even though I make mistakes every day, I'm still alive. For me, every day is both a miraculous blessing, and a dreadful curse. I spend my days in battle, where losing means my death, and winning means one more day to live, one more day to fight. I never thought I'd keep on winning for seven years, but I have. And the funny thing is, even though I bless myself for each and every day I live, I don't really remember that many specific days. They all just blend together, you know? After a while, three years' worth of days becomes one big lump.

No, the only days I remember really clearly are the very first day I began my battle, and then the day when I thought I was done fighting for my life, but learned I'd have to go back onto the field. I didn't have a choice, though some would say I did.

You know what else is funny? On my battlefield, I've met so many brave men and women, from all walks of life, of all ages. I weep for the youngest ones, who lost the battle much to early, and I cheer for the few who made it into the safe zone, never to return again. Some of us have given up, some never did, but were taken anyway. Some, like me, are prisoners of our war, never giving up, but never being set free.

At first, I was proud to be counted among these people, veterans, warriors, and even the dead. Proud, because I knew that in the end, we could win this. Proud, but also terrified. Death became very real to me, the moment I stepped on to the battlefield. I wasn't one of the younger ones, I started out late, but that didn't mean I fought any less hard. After a year, though, I became so tired. The battle went on, and on, never ending.

Then, I was told that I could go home. Home. It was a long way for me, even if it was only a few blocks. Home was a loving family, a life where you could take every day for granted, and never worry about whether or not your loved ones know you care. I knew, even then, that I could never really go home. Part of me would remain behind to help others fight their own battles.

Only a few months passed, though, before I learned I had to return to the battlefield, continue my fight. After a little while longer, I thought of giving up. I was so tired, and it would be so easy to lay down my weapons and walk away forever. But then I thought of my little girl, and my sweet wife, and I knew that I had to keep fighting, as long as I could. So I fought.

Another four years have passed since then, to make a total of seven. I still fight, and sometimes I still despair. But when I see my little girl and my beautiful wife, when I hug them close to my chest, when I murmur that I love them more than anything in the world, then I know that it is worth fighting. It is worth winning. And even if winning only guarantees me one more day to live, that day is a blessing.

My name is John Langsley, and I wear a pink ribbon. I know that I will be just one soldier among many in my fight against breast cancer, and that I will be forgotten, but I will never forget, and I will never give up. I am a soldier, not on the field, away from home, but in my own body, near my own heart.