World War II’s Invisible Child

By Teresa Brady

When daddy comes home from work
He waddles from side to side
And trips up the front steps.
My friends playing hopscotch in the driveway 
laugh and imitate him.
He pounds on the front door,
His face twisted.

I open the door for him, he doesn’t notice.
I hand him my book report marked A++,
No response.
I give him my report card, I’m #1 student,
No response.
I offer a letter from the principal
Requesting a meeting to put me three grades ahead,
No response.

His pocket conceals a bottle of whisky
And another and another.
Daddy is crying.
He puts his cigarette out in the mashed potatoes,
throws his dinner in the trash and goes to bed.

Mommy wipes her eyes and hangs her head.
The house is silent, my stomach in knots.
Mommy told me daddy is sad from the war.
She said war does terrible things to people.

Now, daddy is sleeping.
There is an empty, scary silence.
So, in the stillness, I hug my doggie,
make the sign of the cross and pray.

I pray that real soon I’ll get sick and
That will make daddy snap out of what’s wrong.
I pray I’ll get hit by a car
That will make daddy worry about me.
I pray I’ll be kidnapped
That will make daddy stop thinking of the war
And fight for me.

But nothing bad happens to me,
And life goes on like always.
I shiver and shake,
throw up my breakfast and 
skip my lunch.

Now I pray that daddy stops being sad from the war
Because war does terrible things to people
And I keep praying and hoping he will smile again
And we can go back to the park for a picnic
And ride on the swings and walk the dog.

****

Teresa Brady, B.A., M.B.A., J.D., Honorary Doctor of Letters, is an attorney, former professor and business school dean. She is the author of, Ignite Your Psychic Intuition, and has written dozens of articles for professional and trade journals. Teresa is the co-leader of the Writers’ Group of the NYC Harvard Club. Her father, John J. Brady, was a member of the Air Force and a P51 escort pilot for the Enola Gay Hiroshima Mission.