We were
crew mates and friends,
Tom and I.
He came from
South Carolina,
via the
University of Hawaiʻi.
Partners.
A team of two.
For a couple of years,
we had laughs.
But it ended.
Lieutenant Tom, an enigma,
half of a nuclear bombing team,
a pot smoker,
beer drinker (me too),
almost certainly
a skeptic.
A kind of Buddhist,
politically left,
a sky diving
motorcyclist, and
the class clown.
We were different.
Tom deeper,
more spiritual,
and funnier.
After the Air Force,
Tom became a teacher,
back in South Carolina,
and a renowned
BASE jumper.
An avocation
that brought
an early end to Tom’s life
at the bottom
of a high SC tower when
his parachute gear
failed.
I’ll not forget.
I wish it had been
different. I’d call him.
Look both ways and remember even brief friendships.
Mind the gaps, they sometimes hold truths.