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

letters. His pocketknife.

His impossible coffee. His last request. Wear what you earned.

I had thought he meant the uniform. Maybe he did. But sitting there beside my mother, with my sister’s laughter floating through the screen door and Dad’s flag visible through the living room window, I understood he might have meant something more.

Wear the scars.continue reading …