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Sometimes you say it’s hard to be a hero these days, there are no wars like the wars of your grandfather’s days. The truth is so much of it now is just like life, the guys coming over for a drink after work and the XO breakdancing in a pair of running pants at the Christmas party and all the Lieutenants in reindeer costumes with their girls on their arms, and at the end of the night it is late and the dog is waiting at the door and we could be just like any other couple, stumbling home from any other party. But when you talk about wartime, what you tell me is how many stars there were, and how some boys flew a kite on the mountain. What you don’t talk about is huddling with a group of soldiers in a bunker while the rockets came over the walls, how most of you by chance came out, but two did not. They were Canadian, you said offhandedly, when you’d been home for a while, and you never said it again. VICTORIA KELLY received her BA from Harvard University and her MFA from the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Her poetry appeared in Best American Poetry 2013, and her chapbook, Prayers of an American Wife, was published by Autumn House Press in 2012. She lives in Virginia with her husband and daughter.
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