Our Own

         As we set ourselves ready for the fast approaching holidays, the families and friends we love join together. Groups of large and small around the world gather to rejoice in the togetherness. They recall humorous stories long forgotten, as well as brief moments of sadness. Remembering lost loved ones.
         I sit here looking around the crowd in my parent's home. Watching the expressions turn from joyous to serious, depending on the conversation. Anyone wakling down the street would consider ours a happy home. Uncles with their loud, boisterous voices. Aunts laughing and teasing. A grandmother, who's main joy of helping others, watches as individual families tend to their own. Resigning herself to sit and give in to the changing years.
         Brothers, sisters, cousins and the like reconnect to their childish sides. Picking and prodding. Laughing and joking with each other. The warmth of the house, the smells of food wafting from one room to the other. The familial hum of activites that travel on small waves through out the house. And here I am to be lucky enough to sit smack in the middle of it all.
         My eyes catch glimpses of quick reassurance of love between couples. The impeccable joy on kids faces. A tired child clings to her mother for comfort. And there in the mniddle of the room, four of our future women play with their dolls.
         Their imagination flowing from them as easily as breathing. It makes me wonder sometimes how, as we grow to adulthood, we abandon one of the most fundamental things. Our child like imagination. Life itself is hard enough without help. Yet I envy these future women. In all the surrounding chaos their time with the dolls is all they see and hear.
         To a stranger the appearnce can be fooling. Sure we, on the top level, appear to be the happy jovial family. But to those within know the true reality. This time of year should be about the magic of the holidays. Celebration and honor. It's different, however, this holiday. We have come together like this once before. The hidden pain. The worry and fear. Not a tear will be shed mind you. That would go against the purpose of such a gathering. This time to love, to embrace, to strengthen our hearts and minds, as we handle the knowledge that one of our own will be off to fight.
         To fight for what is true and whole. To help secure a future for those little women and their dolls. One of our own will board a flight soon, en-route to a place where destruction and war are common place. No joy of the holiday spirit for we will be seperated.
         So we gather now in the hopes of instilling warm memories for our soldier. Embedding in his heart the love that we have. Hoping and praying it will carry him through to the day of his return. My parting wish for our own is to always keep it real inside and to never give in. Because the next time the holiday rolls around we will be gathering in true celebratiion. For we will have much to be thankful for.