Heart Made of Glass

On active duty, you aren't allowed to return home much. Things like holidays and namedays just become regular days that you learn to forget about. The duty is you and you are the duty. Just one of a number.
 
But once a year, after the first snowfall, troops are granted a three day leave to visit family. "It's all you get, so make it count," they told us. During my very first leave, I was determined to do just that. All growing up I remembered hearing Ma talk incessantly about some sort of tome of illustrations. She was a brilliant mind and never struck me as the type to enjoy books with art, but it was clear from the way she talked about this book that she pined over it. She only had these conversations with Pa -- though I don't understand why, as talking to him was always like talking to a fucking brick wall for all that he listened -- and I was definitely not meant to overhear them. But I tucked the information away, knowing that military personnel receive a *very* small stipend each month for food, and if Pa wouldn't get her that tome, I sure would.
 
As soon as I was enlisted, I saved up everything. Ate cafeteria scraps for a year to keep myself from starving. By the end of it I was all pointy bones and sharp angles and my stomach ached every waking moment, but it was enough. I got that damn book. Walked right into that bookshop on the corner of my street and slapped down all my meager savings. Even wrapped the entire thing on the floor of that shop with the leftover brown paper bag and twine that our winter uniforms came packed in. It was sloppy and unskilled work, but I was so proud as I walked the rest of the way home.
 
"Happy Solstice, Mother!" I beamed, arms outstretched. "I love you!"
 
There was no mistaking the recognition that flashed across her face when she finished unwrapping it, her edges softening for just a moment, and I thought I'd finally done it. But it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar stoicism I was used to.
 
"It is clear to me, Novum, that you have been shirking your duties while away. I am profoundly disappointed. I thought my son above such mundane distractions. Apparently, you have no respect for your parents."
 
And she chucked the book right into the fireplace.
 
I could do nothing else besides watch it burn. Beautiful botanical illustrations licked away by flame. I never went back home for leave after that.
 
What a valuable lesson to learn, that nothing you do matters.