Jars Of Sand

I wanted to post about this day in history but so many better have already done so. I do want to remember and honor those men in my own small way.

My lovely and talented daughter, the DO, was in Hungary for a couple of years. Stationed there with her AF husband and my two wonderful grandchildren. Last year they decided they'd best take advantage of their situation and visit all the places they'd always wanted to see. One of those places was the D-Day beaches. I've always wanted to go and she's sworn that one day she will take me but in the interim, in case I never make that trip, I had a request. Some sand. Just some sand from those beaches where American soldiers taught the world what the true price of freedom was and then paid it. In cash.

Two small bottles containing some sand from beaches half a world away. Utah in Red. Omaha in Blue. The sand isn't the same that those men scrambled over and died upon. No, that sand, like their lives, has been washed away to be replaced with the new. Their blood and sweat never stained these grains. But their spirit remains. It is as tangible as the kiss of wind on my face. I dare not touch it. I am unworthy. But I can sit and hold the bottles containing the remembrance of valor and struggle and death and victory and imagine and remember and honor. June 6th, 1944. Freedom's victory.

They did not die in vain. This country shall not fall. Their spirit remains alive in America today. I can feel it. There is still honor and courage and sacrifice and duty. We shall keep those flames alive. In their memory.

Two small bottles of sand from beaches half a world away. Collected and presented to me by a daughter who knows and understands because she has herself served. They are priceless to me.

Keep the Faith my friends.

Six