Whoa!

Whoa!

What Price Freedom?

Last night I awoke at about 2:30 in the morning. my whole body was wet with perspiration I had been dreaming feverishly, “Whoa!” I thought aloud, “that’s something I had not experienced in such a long time.” I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. In my mind, I could taste the cool water rushing down my throat even before I lifted the plastic container to my mouth. “Gulp, gulp, gulp,” I downed the precious clear liquid.

I meandered back towards the back door, and then out onto the screened patio. I snuggled comfortably, on what I call my thinking rocker, it was a beautiful night with clear skies and twinkling stars. A light breeze kissed me on the lips. I settled in and rocked slowly reminiscing about my dream before returning to bed.

In the dream, I was back at the mechanic's shop I had visited earlier that day. I had purchased new tires for my jeep and was waiting for the workers to replace the old ones. That is something I insist on. Strong proper tires on a car, as much as the good shoe's on people's feet. I suddenly spotted a pretty, youngish, gal dressed in army fatigues. She too must have been waiting for a mechanic to replace her tires or she had other mechanical work to be done to her car. We were the only two in the garage’s waiting room and I thought I would start up a friendly conversation just to pass the time of day.

The first thing I did was to salute her, I recognized her attire was that of a Cornel in the armed forces. I asked if I could get her a hot cup of coffee "from the vending machine" I added, “for all you do for us.” I realize it is the least we civilians can do to recognize our service people.

She smiled and gave me back a half salute. “Sure, why not, black is fine, and thank you, sir.”

We exchanged names and our automobile anomalies. After talking for a while, I learned that she had driven a truck back in Afghanistan, wheeling soldiers, some of them wounded, back and forth from the front.

I asked if she had had a rough time of it, just as the speaker bellowed out “Ms. Lambert your car is ready please go to the cashiers and pick up your keys.”

“It was manageable,” she said, “that is until that fourteenth trip.” She rose from behind the table walked over to the corridor that would take her out to the cashiers. At the last moment she turned and saluted me, then she walked out of the room.

I quickly caught my breath and almost fell to the floor, when I noticed that she was walking on ‘shiny, steel, prosthetic legs’ Thank God, I had had the fortitude to hold back the rush of tears, which welled in my eyes until she had completely vacated the room.

As I sat there safely, dumbfounded, in my patio and in my thinking rocker, I contemplated my experience again with Ms. Lambert at the mechanic’s shop and another thought invaded my perception. It was about all the other brave men women and sometimes children who have given their lives for the good of others.

“If there is someone watching and caring for us out there in the great beyond, I thank you, for keeping us safe,” and I also thank you for sending Ms. Lambert.

Ta ta Lad