Four and a half months ago Kevin was there to help send off a group of Marines to Afghanistan. At the end of July he had to be there while someone told a wife of one of those Marines that her husband had died. I remember that I saw it on the news in Oregon and Kevin was at her house. Strange feeling. The rest of the group came home very early Thursday morning. Every story of troops coming home is emotional. I can't even watch those videos of the returning parents surprising their kids at school. I know for Kevin it was a little different because they were people he's been working with, talking to and praying for. It was hard to keep my tears in check while he was telling me of the ceremonial part of the morning. Then he added that the widow was there. She's only 23. Today, as I drove across base, I kept picturing her with his sweatshirt on, standing there with a group of friends that were all welcoming their Marines home. Hers was the only one not there. Breaks my heart. At the same time, I'm so happy I could cry for all those families that are back together again.
It's funny though, as I was tearing up in the car, I passed by some Marines dancing to get customers for their car wash fundraiser. I looked up and saw a sky with five giant helicopters that looked like a scene from an action movie. I pulled onto my street and saw that the landscapers were mowing today and my thoughts went immediately back to whether or not I pulled the soccer goal from the back yard and if I cleaned up all of Lola's poop. Life goes on. I just hope we don't forget about the people out there who have sacrificed to make that possible for the rest of us.
What a strange, fun, sad and exciting world I live in.
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