Two months ago, a letter had arrived at our house. It was addressed to daddy, and it was from the British Air Force. I had bounded down the steps in an excited frenzy, proud to be doing something for daddy as important as delivering a letter from the army.
That night, I heard mommy and daddy cry together in the living room.
A month and twenty days ago, we sent daddy off. That day, mommy was crying again, but daddy wasn’t. He was wearing a green coat that they had sent to him. He looked just like the man in front of him, and just like the behind him. But he was special because he was my daddy. I had given him Geoffrey, and he was holding him tight against his chest. Geoffrey’s brown fur peaked out from the bottom of daddy’s thick arms and I could see Geoffrey’s button eyes staring at me. I marched with daddy all the way to the big, grey boat. But they didn’t let me go any further.
And that was how daddy left. A month and twenty days later, a flag came back, along with a blood-stained teddy bear.