Reunions and Sacrifices Realized

Thursday was Reunion Day in my sweet town of Newton. As I try and think back to a time when I didn't experience the magic of the city coming together in celebration on the third Thursday in August, my mind goes blank. Come rain or shine, the day has always started at 9am with vendors, music and appreciation for our soldiers. For years I was in the parade, and then when I started working at Zander's I watched from the window in between helping customers. This year was the first year I can remember not having to do anything but enjoy the festivities, and living in our loft above the town's square gave us the perfect view, not to mention air conditioning.

I was dreading the parade for days, to be honest, because sometimes, as patriotic as I try to be, thinking of the miltiary just gets to me too much. Whenever I see a man or woman in uniform, I feel an overwhelming since of pride for them, but I also feel a tiny bit sad as I'm reminded of where my own husband is. An entire day of those feelings is emotionally draining, as I'm still learning how to experience all of these feelings without letting it show too much.

It's actually quite interesting to go from angry to joyful, scared to proud, excited to sad, and energetic to exhausted, several times a day. I'm not saying I like it, but it's interesting.

The day proved to be better than I expected, though, and I took advantage of my prime spot above the town by hanging a banner from our bedroom window, asking anyone who saw it to pray for my husband. While I think everyone who comes to the parade knows what it's about, I think it's easy for many to forget that it isn't just veterans of wars from the past we're honoring. At times I feel like stopping people in their tracks when I see them laughing, holding hands with their significant other or doing the simplest of things like getting into their cars as families. I know it isn't realistic, or even fair, to be angry at these things but again, I can't help it at times. At least I knew I had done what I could do to remind others of those brave soldiers thousands of miles away who are protecting their right to celebrate.

And for the most part, each float or car did their part in waving American flags and decorating with red, white and blue. The only time I truly find myself wanting the day to disappear was when the float passed that held the memorial of the fallen soldier. I don't think it will ever get easier to see the homage made up of combat boots, a rifle and headgear. In my opinion, the entire street should have silenced as it made its way through; but alas, further proof that few understood what it really represented was made evident as children still ran, people still talked and the music still blared.

Even when all of me wants to turn my head and spare myself the images of the ultimate sacrifice made by the American soldier, I will never avoid it. I will always make myself understand that there are others who have come before me and those who will come after me who lived, fought and died so that I don't have to.