{"id":141,"date":"2011-05-09T18:34:01","date_gmt":"2011-05-09T22:34:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ohe.5c7.myftpupload.com\/?p=141"},"modified":"2011-05-10T06:24:23","modified_gmt":"2011-05-10T10:24:23","slug":"the-sacrifice","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/?p=141","title":{"rendered":"The sacrifice"},"content":{"rendered":"

I wrote this last August as I was heading out of town. I came upon it today and couldn’t stop thinking about it.<\/em><\/p>\n

I pull into the airport garage, park, and unload my bags. I see a soldier and several kids unloading things from a car a row away. I think of walking over and saying, \u201cThanks for serving,\u201d but it feels awkward.<\/p>\n

I head for the terminal, see the family headed for the elevator option, think again about expressing my gratitude, and continue into the terminal.<\/p>\n

I get past the TSA guy and queue up for the body and luggage search. I see the soldier. He\u2019s hugging a preteen girl who is sobbing.\u00a0 They spend several minutes together. Then he picks up a younger girl; she\u2019s maybe 8. I see a young boy, 4-ish, sobbing and wiping tears from his face. He parks himself on a bench, his back toward his dad. His brother, maybe 5 or 6, puts an arm around his shoulder to comfort him.<\/p>\n

I move ahead in the line. Five, ten feet. New people are queuing up behind me. Where\u2019s the wife, I wonder. The airport lobby is dominated by a large Lichtenstein sculpture. I strain to see if she is on the other side of it.<\/p>\n

The soldier now releases the younger girl and takes a baby, maybe 8 months old, from the arms of a woman whose back is to me.<\/p>\n

The wife hands over the infant and wraps her arms around the two girls, both of who are sobbing.<\/p>\n

I realize that this soldier is walking through his five children one at a time. Each encounter occurs as if nothing else is going on. His attention is riveted on the child at his side or in his arms.<\/p>\n

The baby starts to cry and reaches toward his mother. She releases the girls and moves forward with outstretched arms. The soldier passes the baby to her, wraps his arms around her and buries his face in the space between her neck and shoulder. Seconds tick off. He does not move, nor does she. A minute passes. He is lost in another world. The scent of this woman will be with him months from now in some remote outpost half way around the world.<\/p>\n

The other children, two girls, two boys, sense the intimacy of the moment and move toward their parents. The soldier loosens his grip on his wife and pulls the children in. They form a ring, right here in the middle of the airport, that time and place cannot touch.<\/p>\n

I round the corner to the TSA tables and begin the strip search. Minutes later I see the soldier in line behind me, eyes red, talking with those ahead of and behind him.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m delayed in the line. My Tibetan hand cymbals don\u2019t pass inspection and have to go back through the security machine.<\/p>\n

I pack up and head toward the gate. The soldier is ahead of me. He pauses at the same gate.<\/p>\n

I cannot ignore the moment. I approach him, touch his arm to get his attention, and say, \u201cI saw you with your family. It\u2019s a beautiful family.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turns to face me. His eyes are red and wet. He smiles, says, \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you headed?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight now, Wisconsin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAfghanistan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor how long?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA year.\u201d The tears well up again. His cheeks are flushed. I squeeze his arm, tears forming in my eyes. \u201cA year\u2019s a long time,\u201d I say. \u201cThank you very<\/span> much for serving and for sacrificing like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

He straightens his chin. \u201cYou\u2019re welcome.\u201d A small smile emerges, then he lowers his eyes. A tear falls on the papers in his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod keep you safe,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d he responds.<\/p>\n

I walk away.<\/p>\n

I think his name was Kingley.<\/p>\n

By my calculation today, he is due home in 3 months.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I wrote this last August as I was heading out of town. I came upon it today and couldn’t stop thinking about it. I pull into the airport garage, park, and unload my bags. I see a soldier and several kids unloading things from a car a row away. I think of walking over and…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-141","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-raw-emotion"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/141","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=141"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/141\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":146,"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/141\/revisions\/146"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=141"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=141"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inourrightmind.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=141"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}