Boots on the Ground

Graphics by Chris Rogers (as always)

He was a part of my childhood as much as my jungle gym, or my Putt Putt car, or my dog, “Rosie Sprinkles.” Weaving in and out of my memories from third grade on.

Our adolescent years spent together preparing for Bible Drills, or livestock shows, or 4-H meetings. Many Sundays shared at Sunday School, Wednesday nights at Team Kid, and a Saturday every month at our Double Sink 4-H Club Meeting.

Many get-togethers were had. We had dinners at his house occasionally, at which I remember helping his grandmother put together puzzles; and swim parties and barbecues were had at my house during the summer months.

Eventually High School rolled around, and we had our separate groups, our separate friends. We still greeted each other in the morning, awaiting the first bell to ring; or while walking past each other in the hallway.

We graduated and went our separate ways, our families always staying close. He went into the Marines, and I went to college.

I sent letters while he was in boot camp. During his first deployment, I found a bracelet in Cedar Key that was said to bring “good luck.” I sent him one and kept one for myself, promising to say a prayer whenever I saw it. It hung from my car’s rearview mirror until he returned.

A few years later, his best friend came home, draped with an American flag. I sat amongst he and his family, as his friend’s family received that folded flag in place of his safe homecoming.

There were many nights after that funeral that I sat up riddled with worry about my friend. Praying that he would come home, and come home safely.

Years came and went and I wondered if civilian life would ever suit him. I worried about him struggling to find his place here again.

I am ever so grateful for those that serve and have served this country; wholeheartedly indebted to those that gave their lives in foreign deserts, on foreign beaches, on foreign soil. No words could ever express my gratitude.

But there is no greater sound than hearing his booming laugh at Easter...
Sharing a vacation with all of his family and mine in the mountains...
Seeing he and his wife’s excitement at the upcoming birth of their firstborn child, a son...

Yes, I am forever grateful to our service men and women; but oh, how thankful I am to have my friend’s boots on the ground...on American soil again.