The uniform was large, made from someone much older than him. It belonged to someone much older than him, but that never stopped him from playing in it. The coat sleeves hung over his tiny arms. Embroidered in gold and silver thread. With the Royal Family Crest on the back. He would spend hours just gazing at it. That was how his father had made his way through life, fighting for the Royal family. But that's was only one of the reasons why Jameson Cain admired his father.
As he placed the hat upon his head, it slid down covering his eyes. The lights of their home were covered and Jameson stood in his fathers uniform.
He
used to play in daddy's uniform
With the stripes across the
sleeve
And he knew when he was all grown up
What he was gonna
to be
He used to like to ambush every careless cat or dog
That
had the nerve to cross the battle lines he had drawn
He heard his father's chuckle as the hat lifted from his head, "What are you doing Jameson?"
"Being you!" Jameson answered. "Going off with the resistance, and fighting the evil witch!"
His father sighed, resisting the urge to laugh again. "I think you'll have to wait, until you can fit the uniform, Jameson."
Jameson's shoulders sagged. His lips stuck out, pouting. His father always told him this every time he wore the uniform. When you're older and bigger. When the uniform fits you. What if he didn't want to wait? His father had found an adventure, why couldn't Jameson?
And
even though he didn't know
What his dad was fighting for
He
was proud to be the other little soldier
In this war
His mother entered quickly. Her hair bounced as she hurried into the room. Her hands shook with a beige letter in her fingers. His father stood and took the letter from his wife. He read it over quickly. Jameson stayed quiet, knowing something was going on.
"Father?" Jameson asked.
His father turned back to Jameson and knelt down. "It looks like I'm going to need my uniform, son."
Jameson nodded sadly. His father had been called into the war. The war that had been raging for at least four years. Every night, Jameson had prayed his father wouldn't be sent away, that he would always stay home with his mother.
His father stood on the porch of their home. His uniform spreading across his broad shoulders. "I know this is going to be difficult, Jameson, but you're the man of the house now. Hold down the fort and I'll be home as soon as I can."
"Yes sir." Jameson saluted his father with his five year old hands.
His father smiled and ruffled his hair. He turned to his mother and hugged her.
"Be careful. "Jameson heard her whisper.
"I will." His father released his mother and mounted his horse. He waved at them one last time before riding off to his camp.
The
phone rang in the middle of the night
When they called his dad to
go
Kissed him and his mom goodbye
And said God I love you
both
I know that it's a lot to ask of such a little man
But
hold the fort and
I'll be home as quickly as I can
After his father's departure, Jameson would come out onto the porch, waiting for him to return. His mother would often call him in for supper and then send him off to bed. Still Jameson returned to the porch the next day. Often he would see a soldier riding up with a letter from his father. Jameson would run the letter to his mother and she would read him the letter.
But after several months, the letters stopped coming. Still Jameson waited on the porch. Then, one day, a rider came down the path to their home.
"Mother." Jameson called.
His mother came out and watched the rider approached the house.
And
even though he didn't know
What his dad was fighting for
He
was proud to be the other little soldier
In this war
The rain poured down on all who were outside. Though Jameson didn't care. He stood at a large wall that the Queen had commissioned for those who had died in the war. Jameson touched the black marble wall, tracing the lettering of his fathers name. His small fingers traced around the gold lettering of; Jeb Cain.
His blue eyes scanned the wall. He found many names of people he knew, all family in some way. But his stopped scanning when he found a name near his fathers. A name that had caused much grief when he had passed; Wyatt Cain. His grandfather. That had been the last time he saw his grandmother, or his cousins. They had all joined the war with his grandfather, except the Queen. His grandmother had refused she join them.
Jameson sniffed back the tears that dared so much to surface. But he couldn't cry. His father, or grandfather, wouldn't want him to cry.
"It's ok to miss them." said a calm voice.
Jameson turned to see a woman standing behind him. She had short brown hair, bouncing with wild curls. Parts of her brown hair was streaked with grey. Jameson knew she couldn't be very old. Older than his mother, but not by much. Yet, something about her bright blue eyes gave Jameson a very comfortable, familiar feeling.
She walked up next to him and knelt down on the grass. She looked at the name Jameson was tracing. "And it's ok to cry over them."
"But…they can't hear me." Jameson said.
"Yes they can. They can us right now. They may not be with you, where you can see them. But you can always feel them near you. Watching over you." she explained.
"Did…did you know my father?" Jameson asked.
She smiled sadly, "Yes, I did. And I knew your grandfather."
"Do you miss them too?"
She nodded slowly, "Yes. I miss them very much. But I know that they're watching over me. And they're waiting for me."
Jameson wiped a stray tear from his father. The woman placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.
A
wall cannot begin to hold
The names of all the kids
Who gave
the great sacrifice
That any child could give
"Here come your mother. And remember, your father's always watching over you, Jameson." she whispered. She stood and walked away from the wall.
"Jameson?" his mother called. Jameson saw his mother, holding to OZ's flag in her hands. That was all she had left of him. Jameson sighed and stood from the wet ground. He looked at his father's and grandfather's name of the wall and saluted them.
Her eyes caught something behind him. She gasped quietly, "DG?"
It
was the first time he had ever seen
A flag from up that close
And he watched them as
They folded it so careful and so slow
As they gave it to his mother
He knew what he should do
He
raised his little hand and
Gave his dad one last solute
Jameson turned his head where his mother was looking. He saw the woman who had been talking with him stop. She turned slowly, looking back at both of them. It was then that Jameson saw it. Though her hair was much longer in the pictures at his home, and her hair was grey, Jameson was looking at his grandmother.
DG smiled, "Hello Delaney."
"When did you return?" asked his mother.
"I returned with the last decommissioned soldiers. Apparently a wounded Queen Mother is not useful in battle." DG laughed slightly.
Jameson saw the pain behind his grandmothers eyes. It was hard to miss.
DG looked up at Delaney, "My offer still stands. Now, more than ever, I suggest you take it."
Delaney nodded, "I consider it."
Dg gave a small nod. She looked down at Jameson and winked. She turned and continued walking through the gardens of the fall soldiers.
"Mother, was that-"
"Your grandmother." she answered.
And
even though he didn't know
What his dad was fighting for
He
was proud to be the other little soldier
He was proud to be the
other little soldier
In this war
--
tada! ok, how many could firgure out who was who, before I revieled it? oh well. yeah, i know it's sad, but i've been dying to use this song in a fic. and i might even do a second chapter if you want. review please.