The Soldier

It's Memorial Day and the sun feels good on my face.  The top is down on my car and I am taking the back roads to home; enjoying my mid-morning drive through quiet city streets.

My friends and I met at the town's college track for an intense speed workout early in the morning.  After some warm up miles, we hit the track for 4 miles of 60 second sprints followed by 60 seconds of slow.  Hitting my correct pace grew more difficult with each sprint, which intesified the feeling of happiness after nailing each one.  As we ran our cool down miles our conversations centered on who was going to do what the remainder of the holiday.  We had no problem keeping the pace easy.

The light was red and I sit in my car enjoying not only the sun's rays, but also the tremendous feeling of accomplishment that comes from such a hard workout.  In a few short hours our yard would be filled with friends and family, the smell of burgers on the barbeque and a campfire in the fire pit.  The burger and beer I'd have was definitely earned this morning.

Once the light changes to green, I turn making my way past the cemetary nestled in the hillside.   Something catches my eye.  I slow my car down and watch.  Standing at attention, a lone soldier stood saluting a tombstone.  His dress blues are a stark contrast to the grey of the tombstones and the green of the grass.  The white of his hair peeked from underneath the brim of his hat.

Who was this aged soldier and to whom was he saluting?  A fellow combat warrior in which they had shared battles?  A father showing his son respect or his daughter honor?  Or was this a son saluting his fallen father in which time had aged him but not the memory? 

I will never know, but what I was watching from afar changed me.  A brief moment ago, my day was about friends, family, and barbeques; now I felt a twinge of shame.  The day was set aside to honor the protectors and fighters of freedom and I had forgotten.  I had made the day about me and not the memory of the those who sacrificed their very lives.

Tears well up in my eyes as I witness this most sacred moment of a soldier and a tombstome.  Gratitude fills my heart; I pray for those serving, those who have served and those who died while serving.  For it is now reminded me, it is me who they serve. 

The sun is shining, the top is down on my car and I can now feel the freedom in the air; a freedom that was never free and in which I have always known.

Thank you soldier.