I slowly rolled out of bed this morning. Ahhhh, a day off work! It was quiet except for the birds chirping in the trees in the backyard. After the wake-up-in-the-morning pit stop, I dragged myself into the kitchen for a glass of water and stared aimlessly into the pantry at the food on the shelves. I didn’t want any of it, of course, so I went to my front window.
The sunrise was peeping through early morning clouds. My front lawn needs mowing but I’m feeling too lazy to attack it today. My eye roll and aggravated breath blow confirmed the executive decision.
I once again dragged myself across the room to my chair affectionately known around here as the Command Center. Visualize Emperor Palpatine in Star Wars sitting in his command chair. It’s where I sit and talk with my family daily. It’s where I mindlessly play Tetris on the laptop. It’s where I log on to Facebook from my phone so I can see a funny cat video or 164th selfie that has been posted by the same person. Yes, girl, you look good and we know you got your hair did. It’s where I eat Doritos and Mary fusses that my orange fingertips will ruin her furniture. It’s where I read and write. It’s where I fall asleep after we’ve taken 20 minutes to debate and pick out a Netflix movie to watch together. Lord, help y’all if she decides she wants to follow the Bridgerton series. And she disses my Steven Seagal movies? Everyone loves a good bone snapping, right?
Anyway, I flipped on the TV to wake up. Within seconds there were commercials blaring about Safelite repairing my windshield, Burger King doing it my way, female monthly supplies, Jamie Lee Curtis is constipated and recruiting me to eat Activia, and products that shrink hemorrhoidal tissue. UGH. Nothing is private anymore. Lord, take me now!
And then there he was…. President Biden speaking on needing more taxes to cover spending. I see the birds aren’t the only thing chirping this morning. Where is my remote?
I turned off the TV and sat in silence for a few minutes. I began thinking about my previous steps over the last few minutes.
I woke up this morning to a quiet neighborhood and I slowly rolled out of bed. I didn’t get startled in my sleep by explosions and have to dive for cover. Someone had already done it for me and didn’t come home.
I went into my bathroom with clean flowing water for the morning pit stop. I didn’t have to stand in line to use the latrine or whatever spot they could find on the battlefield. Someone had already done it for me and didn’t come home.
I opened a pantry with food in it. I’m so well fed that I am choosy and indecisive. I didn’t have to eat rations or MREs. I didn’t have to be hungry in a cold, far-away place separated from those I love. Someone had already done it for me and didn’t come home.
I’m breath blowing and eye rolling over cutting grass. There are no sandbags or craters in my yard. There are no foxholes that I have to dive in at my house because the enemy lurks nearby. Someone had already done that for me in another place. They didn’t get to come home to a lawn that needed cutting.
All these privileges and pleasures, or even chores, that I enjoy and take for granted daily happen because of young men and women so willing to give themselves that they laid down their life to preserve mine. And I have the nerve to complain or whine or overlook just how great it is to live in the United States of America.
We all complain. We pout. We play victim. We rant. Like spoiled children. And that’s just what we are. Spoiled rotten benefactors because our grandfathers, uncles, brothers, sisters, and even our children saw things differently. They took a road less traveled so that we could enjoy a path of ease. This life of iPhones, gadgets and conveniences. This life of church services, family lunches, and ice cream shops.
But before we had these things there were men that breathed their last in Lexington and Concord. Men that made their way with General Washington across the Delaware River and died in an effort to declare independence.
There were those who joined with our Indian brothers and sisters to ward off oppression and servitude as we expanded our territory and dreamed of a better way. They fought for me and so many others that they would never know.
There were those who died as we battled each other in a divided cause. The bloody harbor of Charleston, the souls scattered across the battlefield at Gettysburg, and the ashes of Atlanta laid the bodies of so many to rest.
The endless meadows and cobblestone streets of Europe ran with the blood of American sacrifice. Those lives that were cut short would take the battle to the wolves den instead of allowing them to come to our shores. And as if once wasn’t enough, our best and brightest led the way twice to preserve our way of life.
Southeast Asia claimed the lives of so many good young soldiers who went to Korea and Vietnam because they were commanded to go. They fought and didn’t get a chance to leave the jungle and see the family they left behind.
And when terror finally found its way here, the brave souls pushed it back to the other side of the globe even though it took loss of limb and life to do so.
That’s a lot of blood. A lot of death. A lot of sacrifice and loss so that I can have freedom to get up in the morning without fear, complain about politicians, and be indecisive about breakfast.
You know, Honey Nut Cheerios ain’t so bad. And I love the smell of freshly cut grass. I think I’ll go for a walk, and we’ll all laugh together the next time Jamie Lee Curtis gets bound up. Perhaps I’ll take in a movie later today on Netflix, although it will never be Bridgerton.
But most of all, I’ll be thankful for this life gifted to me courtesy of the fallen.
