(Memorial Day Tribute to the Brave)

It’s amazing the things you think of when you don’t have a lot of time. Time’s pretty short for me. I’ve started an action that probably won’t end well. Had to do it, though.

For some reason the first thing I think of is the look on my little brother’s face when he won a gold medal at a grade school track meet. He’d run the 100 yard dash in 10.6 seconds, beating his closest competitor by nearly half a second. I remember his smile as they gave him his medal at the award ceremony. It was an easy smile, not terribly joyous or strained, just an easy smile that spoke of a new found confidence, and he was standing a little straighter.

I remember thinking ‘there goes little brother.’ There were two of us guys and a sister older than Benj in our family. How much that moment meant for him, how much that little personal victory would shape his life. I loved him for it because I knew how he felt, I was ‘little brother’ too. I was happy for him.

There was this dog I ran over with my car. That was pretty sad.

The roller coaster was almost at the top of the metal hill. Everyone waiting for the exhilarating drop from the crest. And it comes! Screams of hysterical laughter, mom right behind us yelling like a banshee just like everyone else. Colors—yellow, red, chartreuse, sky blue, orange, chlorophyll green, indigo, all swirl and pinwheel by as the plummeting coaster passes through the carnival scene in humid mid summer. Cotton candy and funnel cake, frying sausage and onions, redolent and wafting. King’s Dominion was it? Yeah, King’s Dominion.

So I put my tassel on the left side. I had graduated from High School. So now what? I should join the Army and get that over with while I’m still young, I thought. Get an education afterwards. Funny, how I was so practical about it. I had my future all mapped out and it looked pretty rosy!

Sarah Jenson was so beautiful. I remember staring at her in class. I couldn’t help myself, the curve of her cheek, the satiny luster of her skin, her lips so smooth and graceful when she smiled, her hair fine and the color of dark honey, her smell—was that what ambrosia smells like?

It was night and we made camp at the public campground. Pretty nice, really, rest rooms with showers, cast iron grills and fire pits. We had the bikes all chained up to an oak tree and pitched our tents nearby. I wondered at the fun we were having. Everyone pitching in to get where we were going, only a big circle but so worth the trip. A fire under the stars and I remember looking at all those unbelievably hopeful, optimistic faces, firelight dancing with dreams. How could the world do without anyone of us?

And dad said, “you okay?”

“I think so,” I replied and got up from the ground, a rouge scrape on my knee just beginning to show tiny dark crimson pinpoints. I picked up the bike. The handlebar was off center so I straddled the front wheel and wrenched the bar a little in the right direction. Checked it, gave it another little wrench, checked again, then said, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Trying too hard if anything,” dad said.

And now I’m landing on that grenade, just like I planned. Kevlar might save me. You guys live good full lives, okay? Make this worth something, okay? Shoulda said something to Sarah . . .