Dad continues to read today's newspaper while Elaine and I sit silently at the table. My leg has been bouncing erratically as I stare aimlessly out the dining room window.

My sister has yet to bring up the topic of Woodstock, and my nerves are shot.

Elaine and I have our differences, but she knows my heart beats in time with whatever song I'm listening to. She would never mention something as a life-changing music festival if she weren't serious about it.

The gentle clink of silverware in front of me draws me from my thoughts. When I look up, I am greeted by my mother's soft brown eyes. "Is everything alright, Dear?"

"Yes," I say a little too quickly to be convincing. Her brows furrow, and I begin to brush away imaginary debris from the wooden table top. "I'm just tired."

She places her delicate hand on my shoulder and gives me a soft squeeze. "You had a busy week. You have been watching the Taylor children all summer. It's not easy taking care of two rambunctious boys."

Being surrounded by two toddlers was a fantastic form of birth control. I thoroughly enjoy playing with them all day and then having the blessing of handing them off to their parents when they get home from work. Plus, I was able to save some money from my babysitting for college or maybe for this trip to New York if Elaine ever brings it up.

A loud knock at the door blares through our house, and my mother lets out an airy giggle. Shaking her head playfully, she says, "Those Walker kids, I miss having them around."

My head snaps up, and I glance at Elaine. Her tight-lipped smile causes the corners of her eyes to close.

This is it, The moment I have been waiting for.

"Daddy?" Elaine quietly asks.

"Yes, Sweetheart?" He answers without lowering his newspaper.

"Well, I have something important to ask you." She pauses and kicks my leg from the other side of the table. "I wanted to do something memorable for Gwen's birthday. We are both technically adults now, but I wouldn't want to do anything without running it by you first. I respect you too much."

Oh, she's good.

My father slowly lowers the paper. His dark brown eyes bore in Elaine's direction, his face made of stone. "Don't patronize me, Elaine. What do you want?"

No. No. No. This is not going how I hoped.

"You're right, Daddy. I'm sorry," Elaine apologizes, then bats her long lashes. "I just wanted to ask if it was okay if I took Gwen camping."

"Absolutely not."

If my heart could fall from my chest, it would now be in my toes. "Why?"

My mother strolls into the room with a smile so wide I can almost see her molars. Following her are Rose and Bobby Walker, our next-door neighbors. "Why what?" she asks.

"Nothing," My father mumbles as he brings his gaze back to his paper.

Rose places a bouquet of white daisies in front of me before wrapping her dainty arms around my body. Her cheek presses against mine as her long blonde hair falls in front of my shoulder. "My Sweet Pea is all grown up!"

I attempt to get up from my seated position and turn to greet her properly, but she has me in a tight hold for such a slender woman. "I'm not even two years younger than you, Rose."

She completely ignores me and squeezes tighter. "I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday."

"You were like one and a half. That's impossible."

My sister's best friend finally lets me go and takes a step toward my father. She leans down and places a kiss on the top of his head. "Hello, Mr. Harris."

My father chuckles. "Good evening. Rose."

"Happy Birthday, Winnie."

Heat flares across my face, all the way to my ears when I hear Bobby Walker's husky voice. His hazel eyes sparkle as he places a small gift bag in front of me.

Bobby is the only one who calls me Winnie. Since he couldn't correctly say Gwendolyn as a child, he has never known me by any other name. Sometimes my stomach still flutters when I hear "Winnie" fall from his lips. Bobby was the first guy to make my heart sing, after all.

As Bobby pulls out the chair beside me, he calls out to my father. "Good evening, Mr. Harris."

Finally putting down his evening paper, my father's eyes open wide. Dad has always had a soft spot for him. "Bobby, my boy! How have you been?"

Bobby pushes wisps of his dirty blonde hair from his forehead and smiles. "I've been great. Busy with work and getting ready to leave in a few weeks."

My mother sets a cup in front of my dad before pouring some coffee for him. "You know, I feel better knowing my baby girl won't be alone in the city."

I gaze down at my nails and begin to pick at my cuticles. It isn't a secret that my parents only approved of me applying to NYU because they knew Bobby already attended.

For clarification, I didn't apply to NYU because of Bobby. My hopes of us being anything more than friends sailed away when he got a girlfriend in his junior year of high school. The university has a bitchin writing program that I would be foolish to ignore. I might not be able to write sweet melodies, but poems and short stories? That's my jam.

A warm hand wraps around my fingers, and my head snaps up. Bobby maintains eye contact with my father, not realizing he has my heart beating against my ribcage like a drum.

"Mr. Harris, I promise I will make sure Winnie stays safe." His words come out like a finely tuned guitar.

"I know you will." My father winks before taking a sip of his coffee. "If Daniel were around, I wouldn't have to ask you to look after Gwen."

The air around us stiffens, and no one makes a sound. My mother's steps falter, and she nearly drops the stack of plates she is holding.

My heart stops its rhythmic cadence and stills at my brother's name. "Daddy, can we not?"

With his brows lowered and his nostrils flared, my father lets out a ragged breath. "I did everything in my power to ensure that boy didn't have to witness war like I did. He's a damn doctor for crying out loud. He shouldn't be over there!"

My muscles clench tightly throughout my body at his harsh words. "He's saving lives, Daddy," the words come out soft, almost too quiet to hear.

"While risking his own!"

We should be slicing into my birthday cake rather than finding a way to cut the tension surrounding us.

Daniel was not supposed to be in Vietnam. He was to start his residency at New York- Presbyterian after his graduation in June, but he decided to push it aside to serve his country best way he could.

It was a dreadful time in our house, with lots of yelling and tears. My heart still clenches when I think back to saying goodbye to him. Knowing that it could be the last time I hugged or saw my big brother crushed me in ways I never knew possible

Bobby clears his throat before reaching into his shirt pocket. He hands me a letter and says, "This is from Daniel. He wanted me to give it to you." Bobby then points to the flowers still lying in front of me. "He told us to pick these up for you. He knows they are your favorite."

My eyes begin to prickle as I fight off tears. I shakily reach out for the envelope, and before I open it, I fill my lungs to their total capacity before slowly blowing out the air.

My baby sister,

Gwen, I'm so sorry I can't be there to celebrate with you today. I remember the first time I ever held you, you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I didn't want to let you go. Don't tell Elaine, though, she looked like a potato, and we all know she has a serious complex about it.

I miss you terribly and wish it was possible to come back to see you off to college. I know you will be amazing and take New York by storm.

I promise when I get back, I will make up for all the birthdays and holidays I missed.

Please take a deep breath and enjoy your 18th birthday. I am safe right now. I promise I am okay.

Thank you for being an exceptional, brilliant, and strong woman. I love you to the moon and back.

Love,

Daniel

PS. In your next letter, please write a detailed description of how the vein on Dad's temple almost exploded from his head when he heard my name. I could use a good laugh.

Tears slip from my cheeks to the paper, splattering the letters with circular watermarks. I frantically wipe them away from the ink because I want to save this forever.

I tenderly fold Daniel's note as if it's Janis Joplin's autograph and might crumble at the slightest touch.

When I look up, I immediately look at my parents. The china plates and coffee are long forgotten and resting on the rich mahogany dining room table. My mother is now sitting on Dad's lap with her head resting on his shoulder. Tears fall down her face, and her hand rubs circles on his chest.

Dad has his elbow pitched up on the arm of the chair, with his chin resting on his fist. He's lost in the unknown, his red eyes staring blankly at the yellow-painted walls. His only movement is his hand rubbing up and down my mother's back.

My father's protruding vein has returned to its natural size, and a smile pulls at the corner of my lips. "Daniel wants me to write about your vein, Daddy." He scoffs at my remark, but I can see a twinkle in his eyes.

Mom kisses Dad's temple, right where his protruding vein usually shows, before scurrying into the kitchen. She comes out holding a beautiful vanilla frosted cake with a single candle. The tense atmosphere becomes light and free as everyone sings their birthday wishes to me.

When the cake is placed in front of me, I don't wish for Woodstock.

I wish for Daniel to come back safe.