I traveled to Charlotte for work this week. It was my first business trip and it went really well. I work at an art licensing agency and we represent artists that live all around the country. I went to visit one artist and work in their studio for 3 days. I really enjoyed my time there - but let's just say business trips are not for me! I missed Will (and Chaco, I'll admit it) a little too much! Here's a photo I took the night before I left...
If you can't tell, that's Will and Chaco both laying on me while we watch TV.
Family snuggle time is my favorite :) I'm a lucky girl.
Ok, so I am glad to be home. But this trip was incredible, simply for the amazing glimpse of military travels I witnessed. Beautiful. Bittersweet. Heartbreaking. Brave. Joyous.
WARNING: this post is long and contains one photo. Just me, recounting the experiences I had this week.
I had connecting flights, so I was in three airports, on four flights, in three days. I want to recount the encounters I mentioned on facebook because they were eye-opening and extraordinary glimpses of military travels and deserve to be explained in full detail.
In Nashville, on Monday morning, I was waiting to board my plane. I had about an hour to sit and play Plants vs. Zombies and other stupid games. I started noticing that their were tons of men in fatigues (is that what they are called? sometimes I just say camo) at my gate. And that there were wives and children with them. I started to catch on...these men are deploying. Their families are allowed to go past security and come to the gate with them. Which is wonderful - our increased security levels can still be allowing of circumstances of compassion and love.
Ok, so back to the families and Army guys. Tears were being shed, some sat quietly, some just embraced while waiting. Then they started announcing groups to board the plane. Men tenderly hugged and kissed their wives. Children cried, wives cried, and you could tell that these brave men were trying to hold it together. I boarded the plane in tears. I felt so proud. So American, as cheesy as that sounds. So thankful. And so lucky. Lucky that people willingly serve our country and make the biggest sacrifice for us. And their families are making that sacrifice with them.
In Atlanta, I saw more Army men and women. I am not sure why so many were flying on Monday. Were they deploying, heading into months of service away from home and families? Were they coming home, catching flights to deliver them into the embrace of loved ones?
In Charlotte, on the first leg of my returning flight, I was sitting at my gate. Playing Plants vs. Zombies again. I could overhear a man on his phone nearby, chewing out someone he works with, being a jerk. And then I heard this cry, a joyous yell, a sound I will never in my life forget. I turned around and saw a woman in fatigues walking out of the tunnel, off the plane. A boy, maybe 7 years old, was running towards her. The cry that came from her was the most beautiful and joyous sound, of a mother reuniting with her son, love that spanned distance for months most likely, and a reunion so precious that I will carry it with me for a long time. I looked around me, the whole gate was smiling and staring. I was crying, the women on either side of me were crying. The jerk who had been on the phone had his hand over his heart.
And then on my flight from Atlanta to Nashville, there was a man in Army fatigues, a boy really. He looked to be in his early twenties. Not any older than my younger brothers. He was sitting in the row ahead of me. Gathered from conversations I could hear, he was deploying. A flight attendant approached him and informed him that they would like to upgrade him to first class because there was one seat available there. She said they would just like to do something for him. He was surprised and shyly accepted. She asked him which bag was his in the carry-on compartment. In a kind of joking tone, he said "the camo one," it made me think so much of my brothers. "Of course," she replied. And he started walking down the aisle. I heard a man speak up, "Be careful, son." Obviously, this boy wasn't his son. But in that Southern way, where we're all family, in that American way, where we are so proud...he was his son.
And then back in Nashville. I was standing on the curb. Waiting for Will to pick me up. And a man wheeling two huge bags, with two prosthetic legs, was greeting a woman. He looked like an Army guy. I am not sure if he was. But I know lives are forever changed in physical and emotional ways after serving. And that these men and women carry those experiences with them for the rest of their lives.
I have never felt so proud of our armed forces. I am grateful, proud, honored, and amazed by the commitment and sacrifice these men and women are making everyday. I think of the men I know who have served and are serving in branches of the military.
Thank you, Jon. Thank you, Paul. Thank you, Mike. Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Jacob. Thank you, Daniel. Thank you, Jordan. And thank you to countless others who I don't know. Your sacrifice is not unnoticed and not forgotten. Thank you for protecting and defending our freedom, thank you for the sacrifice you make to serve our country.
And I think of dear Richard, a friend from middle and high school. In two days, it will have been four years that have passed since he gave his life in the Marines.
Thank you, Richard. You are missed all the time, by friends and family who loved you. I think of your crazy antics on the track team and wish so badly that I could go back in time and hear Coach Gleason yelling at you and Speegle to quit messing around. I see your bright smile in my mind. I remember the way you walked, in just a Richard kind of way. Thank you for giving your life for our country.
This is Richard.
Marine Lance Cpl. Richard A. Buerstetta
Killed October 23, 2006 in Fallujah, Iraq.
Remember to thank the people you know who are making this sacrifice. Thank their families...be it wife, child, mother, father, son, daughter. This is where I want to say "I'm proud to be an American" and that darn song makes it sound so cheesy. But I am, so I'll say it. I am proud to be an American.
