There's an empty field about 3 miles west of where I live that is dotted with yellow flags. At first glance, this meadow of yellow is beautiful. But then something catches your eye in the distance and you peer a little closer and see the sign with the number on it - a number that gets bigger and bigger every time you drive by. And that's when you realize each of the yellow flags in that field represents the life of an American soldier lost in the now 5-year-long war in Iraq. I haven't passed this field in a long time. In fact, the last time I saw it, I remember that the number on the sign started with a 3. Today when I drove by I realized it started with a 4. I'm not sure why, but I felt compelled to get out of my car and take a picture. Maybe just to remind myself that the number on the sign just keeps getting bigger and bigger...
3 comments:
Thanks Sheila. I think we all need a reminder now and then.
I'm not sure there's room in that field for the soldiers who came home broken, some of them injured or damaged permanently.
Nor is there room for the Iraqis. Is anyone counting them at all?
And I sure hope there isn't a spot for my twenty-year-old who has a meeting with a Marine recruiter this week.
I interviewed a 20-year-old Marine and his mom a few weeks ago. He'd asked to be switched to infantry and volunteered to be deployed to Iraq ... and got his wish. He was fun to talk to, all pride and confidence three days before he was to ship out. Really feeling like a man.
I spoke to his mom again last week. She said he can barely talk to her, his voice just cracks as he tries not to cry. Scared. Alone. Really feeling like a kid.
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