My Mother Told Me I Could Not Wear My Uniform At The Memorial Until A Veteran Stood Up

no body had come home, only a helmet, boots, and a rifle.

But this time was Dad. The last note faded. I saluted.

I kept my hand raised until the silence settled. When I lowered it, I felt something inside me lower too. Not disappear.

Just rest. After the ceremony, in the fellowship hall with its tables of casseroles and ham biscuits and sweet tea in plastic continue reading …