Wednesday, May 28, 2014

The Morning of Memorial Day (Memoir, Prose)

Another holiday without my children… another day of silence where there should be prayer, family coming together to remember our fallen soldiers, and those who have served. Another day of emptiness, when there should be the richness of tradition, and patriotism, taught to the next generation. Another tear to shed as the flags wave, as the other families gather to picnic, my family will be torn apart, as will my heart.


On the morning of Memorial Day, my children are woke by the blaring of horns and the screech of a fire engine whistle. They run to the window, their sleepy faces being rubbed awake by gentle sunshine. Below the window they can see Main Street, where the Memorial Day parade begins, the bright red fire trucks leading the way, followed by rows of veterans waving flags.

The community gathers along the sidewalks, cheering and waving small flags. Tootsie rolls are thrown into the waiting hands of children. The veterans proudly wear their uniforms, and are greeted with handshakes or hugs.

Every lamp post and utility pole along Main Street is decorated with flags., the parade begins beneath a banner of stars. The instruments of the marching band are polished to a golden shine, they proudly play patriotic songs steeped in history and memory, stirring our heart with the clash of cymbals, the pounding of drums, the burst of the horns.

Collector cars pass in jeweled colors—jade, golden topaz, ruby and sapphire adorned with graceful fins, chrome wheels, and elaborate hood ornaments.

The Boy Scouts in their blue uniforms march, the Girl Scouts ride in a wooden wagon pulled by a tractor.

Dogs of all sizes stroll down the street, their tails wagging with excitement.

The parade fills our home with cheer, and when it ends I will turn up the music, my daughter tunes the radio to a dance song. The children play as I fry eggs and bacon, every once in awhile I will pop my head into the living room to remind them of what Memorial Day is about. We will pray for the soldiers before breakfast begins, and pray for this country. I will turn off the radio to put in Gospel, so my children can have a moment of reverence.

I hope now my children will remember what I have taught them, and that they always know how much I love them.

-- Daylen Swift

For My Children: Bear and Nora, you are in my heart always. I pray for you every day. And love you with all of my heart. xoxox Mommy xoxox

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