By lex, on September 18th, 2009
For many years I was stationed at NAS Lemoore, California. The base took its hits back during the Vietnam War, a fact to which the little brass plaques on the chapel entry bore mute testimony. Some folks came back. Some were left behind.
None of them were forgotten.
My son and I ended up one day at a little park in town. He was only ten or so, and stepped on a granite marker laid flat on the grass on the southwest side of the park. A dignified lady of a certain age, neatly dressed with her gray hair pulled back in a pony tail spoke to him, not at all unkindly.
“Watch where you step, son. That marker lies there for all those who no longer stand among us.”
I never learned her story. I didn’t have to.
It must have been hard, I think, to have been left behind like that.
For her. For him.
All the way around.