Wearing his uniform trousers and a tan T-shirt, Master Sergeant Ron Hawkins was busy in the kitchen when his daughter Asha walked to the cupboard for a box of fruit loops. “Good morning, honey. I’m fixing eggs and sausage here.”
Without saying a word, Asha shoved the cereal box back, dragged her bare feet across the tile and plopped herself down on the arm less wooden framed side chair.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“How’s school?”
“It’s okay.”
“You’re off today, right?”
“Yep! I mean, yes sir!”
“Hey, you know that I work for a living, so stop…”
“I know, I know, stop calling you sir. Mom tells me I should though.”
“Hmmm. How many are in your class this year?”
“Uhh, about fifty in the seventh grade maybe, but we mix it up, so each class is about fifteen.”
“A lot different than West Creek. Didn’t they have around three hundred in sixth grade?”
“I guess so.”
“Are the teachers better at your new school?”
“The same.”
“Are any of your friends from youth group at the school?”
“A few I know.”
“Do I know them?”
“Dad! Really? Why the interrogation?”
Ron chuckled. “Just having conversation.”
Asha rolled her almond-shaped hazel eyes skyward, before resting her head between her hands–elbows planted firmly on the table.
“Huh umm, what did your mother tell you about your elbows on the table?” Ron asked with a wink. She reminded Ron of a miniature Sarah, except for the fact that her hair was lighter. than her mother’s.
“Dad! Really?” Asha slid them off toward her sides and bowed her head inches away from the flat surface.
“You look sleepy. Can you smile for me, honey? You know it brightens my whole day.”
Asha gave him a forced one-second smile without lifting her head. “You can do better than that…for me? Please?”She looked up slightly and smiled, but Ron noticed a tint of sadness in her eyes. “Well, better, somewhat. I’ll take it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Before Asha could answer, Sarah walked into the kitchen and stooped to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good morning, sunshine.” Asha received it without any movement or emotion. “What’s with her?”
Ron shrugged his shoulders and turned his hands skyward. “Maybe because she’s twelve?”
“Right dad. That’s it,” she mumbled shaking her head.
Seth and Caleb emerged and bounced up to the table and promptly took their seats. Ten-year-old Caleb was quiet-natured and had his father’s brown eyes and sand-colored hair. Eight-year-old Seth, on the other hand, was rambunctious and always getting into something. He favored his grandfather’s appearance with blond hair and blue eyes. “Mom said you were making eggs, sausage, and waffles!” Seth announced.
Asha’s head perked up. “Hey, wait! You never said anything about waffles.”
“Because I didn’t know anything about them myself.”
“Your father knows how much I love waffles,” Sarah responded with a wink at Ron.
“Oh yeah, that’s right! Add waffles to the order.”
“Mommy, are you okay?” Seth asked her curiously.
“No, she’s not okay,” Asha snapped. There was silence. “Dad’s going to leave us again.”
The stark realization of Asha’s inner turmoil hit Ron like a slap in the face. Her emotional outburst released a repressed feeling that was all too common for most military kids.
To be continued
Scott'sWords 