Hadley Harvey, 9th, Roosevelt High School, IA, (Non-fiction) "The Train Ride" It was the summer of 2012. I was five at the time. My dad has been in the Army for 28 years, and by now, I was used to it. The leaving and abrupt returns. The little time we got to spend together, but that brief time spent I truly enjoyed. It was hard for me, but for my sister, it was even more challenging. Although she had been used to it ever since the age of one. Before I was born, she went over a full year without my dad while he was in Afghanistan, and he ended up missing her third birthday. To this day she still holds a lighthearted grudge. I remember my mom telling us stories of Dad singing my sister to bed on the phone, and her throwing tantrums about missing Dad. As she got older, she realized the seriousness of the military. She came to appreciate the hardships that our mom combated. Balancing work, two girls, and everything else she had to deal with on a regular basis. Once I came into this world, I started as a kvetcher, but my sister taught me to be grateful and appreciative that Dad is still here, and that we had the opportunity to see him. My dad has served in Afghanistan, South Korea, Canada, and many places around the country. After I was born, I remember when my dad worked in Omaha for a year. He would travel there on weekdays and come back home to Des Moines on the weekends. My favorite thing was when he came home on Friday nights while Hannah and I would be watching a movie. He would come through the door, and Hannah and I would drop everything to run and give him the biggest hug we could fathom. It was a delightful weekly routine. However, the most perspective-changing and sublime thing that possibly could've occurred during this time was the train ride to see my dad. In that era, all that would happen is Dad’s weekly visits to us, but this was a chance for us to go see him. We drove to Detroit to visit our grandparents and stayed at my grandparents' house as always. Dad had annual training, and this year it was stationed in Illinois. It was always the plan for everyone to head to Illinois after the Detroit visit to our grandparents. The only downside was my mom hated driving in the truck. She hated the long back end of the truck and the cramped interior. She hated the clutter that always built up on road trips, and she hated having to park it, and yelling over the diesel engine while in drive-throughs. I was glad she hated that truck so much. If she had not, I would not have experienced that occult train ride. In the end my dad drove down to Illinois by himself, and my mom, sister, and I took the train to join him later. It was my first and only train ride and was probably the most memorable part of my dad being in the Army, other than him working at the Pentagon. What made it more exciting was this was something I was a part of. Usually, when it comes to Army stories, it involves Dad, Hannah, or Mom. Little did those stories include me since my dad was gradually departing the Army when I was born. When we got to the train
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