"The achievement of freedom from fear is a lifetime undertaking, one that can never be wholly completed... Only the self-deceived will claim perfect freedom from fear."
This city is killing my husband.
A broken tooth. A full week.
No fix in sight.
We’ll likely pony up the $275—
out of pocket, out of patience.
Still, we mutter wait and see.
Where is the government now?
Where is the thank you for your service
as we wait through
paper pushers on vacation,
each passing his case
from approver to approver,
until the VA green-lights
a payment to a dentist
who will then make
an appointment
to pull
the tooth.
It’s not lost on us—
three years ago,
we lived minutes
from a VA clinic.
He would’ve been
in and out
that same day.
For free.
It’s not lost on us—
we meant to move back.
We gave up halfway.
And now, it’s killing him.
And again,
we're trying to find a way.
I feel like a crumpled receipt
no one bothers to smooth out.
And still, secretly,
I pray—
that after the final stamp,
the final signature,
the tooth is pulled—
whoever held it up
chokes on a hotdog
and dies
on that very day.
Is it Happy Fourth of July
as I plan another soft meal
no one has to chew, but we
will eat all the same?
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