what I Saw

The coastal fog was thick this morning as I climbed aboard a bus bound for boston. From my seat against the window I watched as a crowd of people descended on the platform. In their center was a man younger than I by about 5 years, he was maybe 20, dressed in new age military fatigues (you know, pixelized camo). Several people hefted heavy bags, which they set at the soldiers feet as they gathered near the side of the bus. He gathered with first one group and then another for pictures. Last boarding call for logan, south station....

Dad handed the heavy bags to the attendent. THe round mother, her sloppy hair twisted into a bun, twiddled her fingers and then suddenly clutched her son. 

"I love you, mom." He said, burying his face in her shoulder as she sobbed. 

He hugged each of his well wishers furiously in turn. I love you was repeated a dozen times. 

"We'll blow something up when I get back," he promised a younger brother.

Again he clutched his tearful mother and father, and then boarded the bus saying, "oh jeez, oh jeez," plaintively under his breath.

I realized that I too was crying; giant tears of sorrow and fear. Oh, the gruesome cost of war, I am thankful and ashamed. He serves for me, Matt serves for me, Stanley died for me. Yet, I rarely give this a second thought. Truely shameful.