HARRIS, denver bejamin

dear Denver,
this is yourself speaking to you –ironic and stupid really but a suggestion by the psychologist that you had been recommended to see after the incident. you really hate that they call it that, don’t you? past you did at least. do you even understand how this happened? I know I don’t. one minute he was there, walking you home from school because you wanted out of a test and next, blood was coming out of parts of his body that was unnatural for blood to come oozing out of. it makes no sense, it doesn’t seem real…right now. maybe the future Denver understands , the future me…this is getting confusing. this seems pointless. it’s getting me no where. i’m going to stop writing to you…to me…UGH!

it was still a fresh wound and yet, he was expected to write about it. his father’s funeral had not even happened yet, it was the next day a whole twenty four hours and twenty two minutes away and denver could not bring himself to lay out his suit like his mother wanted him to. going to this thing meant it was the end. but he did it. he put on the suit twenty hours and fifteen minutes later, being to the church early and then to the funeral home even earlier (he left the church service early). why had people just walked passed him while he cried for their help? no one reached for their phone until he started cursing and causing a scene as his father laid out on the street, the victim of a hit and run. cadence wouldn’t let him go out that night and hunt down the driver, having remembered half of his license plate –idyllic memory and all. it was probably why denver was so good in school, why he could skim books and remember names that his eyes had only flitted over. actually more than just names – dates, descriptions and could recite them in alphabetical order. but the laziness, that was something that overtook his mental abilities. he could have been in AP courses, had the potential to skip a grade but instead, he was a fritterer. his father died when he was sixteen and with the man of the house gone, denver was forced to take up the role. his first job was a fast food drive thru order taker and he hated it. often coming home smelling like fries and burgers, he would take a shower, eat the dinner his mother left for him and go to bed. that was his life, until he turned 18.

dear denver,

well it’s another one. it’s been two years since your last letter and this is one to remind you why you joined the army and what good it will do for your family. you love them, you always have and always will, no doubt about that. there is nothing in this world that you care more about than the people that live under the same roof of you. make them proud, make yourself proud. that is all, just a daily reminder…


his training began almost instantly due to the upset of the war across seas. they needed soldiers and he was just another chess piece thrown into the game. denver sent every single penny that he made in the army back to his two sisters and his mother. his training was vigorous, it was upsetting and demanding but denver knew that it was the only way for his family to be financially stable until he could get himself back into school and get a proper 8 hour shift desk kind of job—but the army made him realize that he didn’t want that. denver grew restless whenever he was forced to sit down at a desk and type or when he had to stay motionless to read through stacks of paperwork. tests were not his strongest suit but he managed to stay in an average range in terms of his performance. physically, he was healthy and he was fit and that was all that the government seemed to care about when, after they deemed him ready, sent him over seas. those letters were never written because with all honesty, denver did not wish to remember those days. he never wrote to the future self, he just lifted his gun and shot down an enemy when it was required. the only letter that he did write was to his family back in Chicago and even then, there was no real details about his job or what he had witnessed. it was just a guarantee that he was still alive for another week. and then the day came that denver felt the most intense pain of his life as a bullet shimmied it’s way through his protection gear and lodged itself into his chest. denver was sure that the letter that he wrote home the day before was going to be a lie when it was delivered. but the medical team acted fast, forced to perform a dangerous procedure on denver in an environment that could have led to infection. a miracle occurred and only three days after being shot, denver was strong enough to fly back home with a full discharge and a purple heart in hand.

dear denver,