First Sunset

Last night I watched my first sunset from the cliffs overlooking the beach. I felt both happy and sad. I also had dinner with my dad. He's been here for the past 2 weeks on business but today he is heading back to DC. When we were finishing up dinner, I changed the tone of our conversation. I told him about my growing passion for writing.

In regards to the Vietnam War, American History obviously tells the story of both the triumphs and sorrows of the American involvement in Vietnam. But when speaking of triumphs, the hero is always American.

My father was a translator for the Americans during the war. He has seen, heard, felt and even tasted more than I could ever hope to understand about that conflict. But all of that experience has been locked up inside of him for over 30 years. He has always kept it secret and guarded. Many of his colleagues and friends have encouraged him on many occasions to tell his story, but he hadn't the ability to write it himself and he has never trusted anyone with his story. But when I told my dad about my desire to write his story, I could suddenly see into his heart and his mind and I knew he was finally ready to open.

He called me later in the night and told me that he was going to tell me everything.