Read More

My War Journals: Control Points and Kids

Seven hours later: As I lie in my bed with my knees pounding and my back screaming for aspirins, I take a glance at the swimsuit calendar hanging crooked on the dirty white wall, as if I put it up and scurried out of the door for another delightful day in the streets of Baghdad. The last date crossed out in black pen is Sept. 21. I instinctively curl myself into the fetal position on the bed; I look at my watch to see the date, and it is Sept. 25. I then fall quickly into a coma, periodically dreaming about the events that had taken place over the past days.ater: