Chapter 9 — A Table Where Stories Heal
The kitchen lights burn late now.
Former service members peel potatoes beside single parents and teenagers on second chances. Recipes are shared alongside job leads and phone numbers for nights when the dark gets loud.
Eli has an apartment through VA housing. He volunteers three days a week.
On Saturdays, his son brings younger soldiers who sit quietly and listen. Eli never talks about pain. He talks about people.
He shakes hands with dishwashers like they’re captains.
On my desk sits the Silver Star, beside Grandpa Henry’s medals. The dog tag stays in my apron pocket, tapping softly against my keys—a reminder to keep moving.
