A Loss of Innocence

As children growing up on a military base, especially a base that was just a few miles from the Pentagon and only a few months after the 9/11 attacks on the nation, my friends and I felt like there couldn’t be a safer place to be. It was quite common for us to spend our evenings after school outside, running around the neighborhood without a thought as to the safety of ourselves. When spring would come, we would all spend the days just enjoying the weather after being cooped inside for months. All it took was one night to change our innocent, naïve view of the world and our protected environment.


One spring night, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their fragrance wafting in the early spring air. My friends and I, none of us older than eleven, were spending the evening after school laying on the front lawn going over our homework. At least, we told our parents we were doing homework outside even though none of us could stay focused on the text books in front of us for more than a few minutes. All five of us were glad to finally be able to spend some time outside since it had been a typical DC winter ad we couldn’t be outside for fear of freezing for more than a few minutes. We were enjoying being able to lounge around outside in the fading light, looking forward to whatever our moms were making for dinner, watching the military personnel arrive home. We would laugh about school, complain about how boring life was, discuss who was going to be moving where next. It was our favorite way to waste the evening before we were dragged inside and actually had to do our homework. Car after car pulled into our cul-de-sac which had seven duplexes and four separate quadplexes for the military personnel. Fathers, mothers, aunts and uncles all were arriving home for the night. Just another typical, quiet evening on the base.

Then, we saw our neighbor, a young woman who was always willing to help us with any homework problems we had, speed into her garage ad come to a screeching halt. She was the woman our parents had keep track of us, we weren’t being babysat at this point in our lives, when they were out for the night. This woman always cooked up the most delicious meals for us whenever we were having a study session, again, not being babysat. Even for me, a vegetarian, she would create the most delicious meals. A second car pulled up behind her and a man jumped out. It looked like our boring night was starting to get interesting. We could see the couple starting to argue, we also recognized that the man she was arguing with was her boyfriend. This was one of the few couples on the base that didn’t argue, we knew this was out of character. As we inched closer, eager to find out what was causing this normally docile couple to be fighting, words were starting to drift over to us. She was screaming at him at this point, her shouts told us that she had broken up with him recently. Tears started to fill her ocean blue eyes, I wanted to give her a hug like she did on all the nights that I had go to her crying.

Before we even had a chance to register what happened, the boyfriend had pulled out a gun. Tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking in fear. She barely had time to choke out a sobbing “Please..” before he pulled the trigger. I had never seen someone die before, she crumpled to the ground, like she had only had the wind knocked out of her. From the blood that was quickly pooling around her chest and onto the cement, I knew that was not the case. I didn’t realize I screamed, or maybe it was one of my friends , but the man looked at us and noticed us for the first time. Never before have I seen such sad, lost eyes before. He had given up all hope. After giving us a sad smile that told us that he knew of unspeakable things that we children would never understand, he turned the gun on himself. And then he pulled the trigger. For the second time in my life, I saw a person’s life leave them. The light left his eyes just as quickly as the blood and brain matter left his other temple.

After a few hours of talking with the police and my parents and the parents of my friends, I was allowed to go inside. I wanted to cry about the fact that I had done nothing to stop what happened. I wanted to scream about the fact that I still couldn’t quite understand what I had witnessed. I wanted to yell about the injustice of it all. I wanted everyone to stop asking me questions. No, he did not threaten us. No, I had no idea he was violent. How would I know any of these things? I thought we were supposed to be safe here! This was our home! People didn’t kill each other on a military base. This sort of thing happened on civilian properties. Not here.

After a few days, people stopped asking about the incident. After a couple weeks, people had forgotten about her completely. After a month, a new person had moved into her apartment. When we would pass her building even in the coming months, the stain on the concrete never faded. It was as if she was reminding me, all of us, of what happened. She was reminding us that even though everyone else had forgotten what happened, it had stained our lives. Just like the concrete, we would never be the same. Just because everyone else had forgotten her, I never did.