I'm slowly (very slowly) going through a box of my dad's letters home sent while he was in basic training. He was a teenager going away for the first time and he sent at least one letter home every day (with clippings like the one below enclosed for the family to enjoy) and my nana saved each precious letter. I can only imagine how concerned she felt. The plight of a soldier's family hit home in a big way because I had a close friend worry about her teenage son in Afghanistan while I started transcribing my teenage Dad's letters.
Dad made it back and so did her son, but so many don't. As I sat at my sewing machine, enjoying the sunshine while I finished some Thanksgiving decorations, I realized how lucky I am. We owe so much to our ordinary citizens who stand on the front lines defending our freedoms back here at home.
Wearing my poppy,