Daddy used his love like the M16 he carried back from Vietnam.
Every hug smelled of gun powder and old spice, with a note of agent orange. this was the smell of a soldier/father.
Family man was last on his MOS,
last of all the things on the list of man.
Forever disappearing into a night filled with warming MAC flights, jeeps, or base buddies' cars. Nights scented with exhaust fumes and stiff starched uniforms in tightly stacked duffle bags.
(to be continued)