I've told you that I received a surprise package from my solider in Iraq. Did I mention he included snapshots of himself and his men at work? If not, I should have.
The countryside appearing in the photos is arid, rough, and desolate. Empty sand stretches for miles with nothing for contrast except the cobalt blue sky. It is barren desert, punishing land. My soldier and his men are camped there for nearly a year now. They're supposed to come home in February, but plans are subject to swift change in the military. If they have to stay longer, I know they will do so without complaint.
I look at their photographs, these heroes I have "adopted" through Soldiers' Angels, and I'm moved by their dedication, their bravery, and their honor. Their families, their daily lives, and all the comforts of home await them here, all suspended like a deep breath held long and tightly. So much sacrifice from our troops, so that we in the U.S.A. can continue to live safely and enjoy our Christmas season as though September 11 had not happened.
I've never met my soldier, but he is a dear and lifelong friend to me. I can never repay him, but I can be grateful to him for the rest of my life. And I will be. Every American should be so grateful. As I look at the photo of my soldier smiling back at me from the parched battlefields of Iraq, I know it's the very least he deserves.
