A Lukewarm Welcome

I returned home. Not a hero. Not a pariah. But somewhere in the middle. My father blocked out our cul-de-sac and forced the neighborhood to hold a welcome back BBQ for me. Flags flew high. I’d learn later that my old man threatened the lives of those who refused. Some raised their beer glasses when they saw me, some patted me on the back. Many refrained from looking in my direction. While a select few held back snarls of bitter rage. Babykiller written in their eyes. It would be a week before I’d sleep and a lifetime before I’d forget.