Secrets...A Short Story

A little confession, much of this story is based on actual events. Of course, much of it is fiction used to further my little story. I won't say how much is true. You can have fun with that.

Here's the rules if you'd like to give our little writing exercise yourself:

1) Include both of the photos in your story in some way.
2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up (leave a comment if you don't know how! We'll help you out!)
4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, or Leanne) when you’re done via the inLinkz linky on their sites.
5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

Secrets

"I still wish my dad would have talked to me about what he did," I told my co-worker when he casually asked what my father did for a living. We were discussing my childhood, growing up in Southern California, and he asked me about my dad. Life's been difficult for me since I lost him last year, and he lost his dad when he was just a boy. Maybe he was interested because he and I were the same age and he had his dad for such a short time, and me...I had my dad all my life.

When I told him he was a military man, my friend's interested piqued again. His dad had been a WWII soldier--Army Air Corp, I believe. I told him that my dad worked at Edwards and other air force bases. He worked with guidance systems and other things, but I really couldn't tell him much. 

I remember as a little girl I would meet my dad as he came home from work and he'd pick me up and swing me around. It seemed to always be summer when I was a kid. I'd ask him if he had a good day and he always said he did.

He had an office in our house, I remember that. It was dark, had a big desk and a plant that produced berries every few years. I'd want to go in and play in there with my Barbie dolls. He'd let me, sometimes. He did have one rule, however, and that was I could never go into his office when he wasn't there. 

Well, I loved my dad and I always did what he said...except once. I never told anyone this, not even him, but one day I knew my dad would be out of town for a few days and my mom was at the store. I snuck in and looked around. I'd been in that room many times before, but this time it was different. It was scary, and to be honest, exciting.

I walked over to his big desk where he always sat and I saw something on it, a big letter envelope. I thought about opening it, but instead I ran out and I never ever went back in when he wasn't there.

Just before he passed away I asked him if he would tell me about his work, his career. Most of the people he worked for had died and much of it had been made public. I thought it was no big deal. He said no, and he never did tell me. My friend doesn't remember his dad very well. Me...I remember a great man who I knew could keep a secret.

Word Count: 454