As I walked out my front door this morning carrying my laptop bag, I pulled the door behind me with a prolonged tug that caused my index finger to mash between the door and the door pane.
I clasped my throbbing finger as my voice strained to curse loudly enough to offer relief but not so loud that neighbors could hear.
I slowly uncovered and peeked at my swollen finger tip and then went back inside for no other reason than to sigh loudly and curse louder than I had outside in hopes someone would wake up and ask me about my injured finger.
But no one did.
So I left. Again. This time with a sore finger tip and hurt feelings.
It was at this moment I realized how grateful I was for the brave men and women and who fought and died in combat so wimpy and whiny guys like me –who would never have made it in combat– can have a good life today.
And even do frivolous things like writing on Facebook this morning about mashing a finger tip.
And also to do easy but more thoughtful things like thanking the many stronger and braver American service men and women who came before me –and many others like me — and had our backs. And gave their lives for people they would never know but who someday, like today, might want to say “Thank you.”
Thank you. And thank you again. Every day, of course- –but especially on Memorial Day.
Those who fought and died so that those who came after could live freely and in peace.