Freedom
4 Oct
I was waiting to board the plane from Salt Lake City to Dallas/Fort Worth, and I saw a woman dressed in fatigues. An older gentleman walked across the waiting area, took her hand in both of his, and thanked her for her service.
I always tell my kids that we should be thankful for our troops and their sacrifice. We should shake their hands and graciously thank them for their service. A few parents at the kids’ school are in the military. I see one father in particular nearly every afternoon, dressed in his fatigues, meeting his kindergartener. I’ve never had the opportunity to thank him from my minivan in the pick-up lane. And it would be unseemly, no matter how well-intentioned, to race up the lawn and fist-bump the poor man.
Back in Salt Lake City, the man walked back to his group. I turned to the woman in fatigues and quietly asked her where she was headed today.
“Afghanistan,” she replied.
She couldn’t have been much older than 20.
I reached out my hand and shook hers. Her hand was small and tiny and slightly trembling, and, somewhat astonished, I weakened my grip and let go.
“Wow,” I said awkwardly. “How long will you be there?”
“Until March or April.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
Wow. No words for that one. Just WOW.
Wow!
I like you. You are a good lady.
xoxo