Cry Havoc! And Let Go the Dogs of War...

9/11/2005 (Revisited)

I remember that morning like it was yesterday. I will always remember the intimate details of it; the sights, the sounds, the smells. It was the day that the world changed forever.

I was married at the time and had stepped down to our pond to try and catch a mess of fish for supper. I had several nice ones in a bucket when I heard her call to me that breakfast was almost ready. I pulled out for the house with my pole and bucket in hand, stopping to sit in a chair on the porch to remove my wet boots. The windows were open and the radio was on and I half-listened, half-ignored the announcer talking about a plane crash in New York. I remember thinking that it was only a matter of time before something like this was going to happen. Sooner or later some pilot was going to screw up and hit one of the massive buildings jutting up out of the ground across America...the numbers were just with it.

I went inside and turned on the television and they had a live feed of the events going on. It was just about then that the second plane hit. And my heart broke. God help us all. My eyes clouded with rage, pain, fear, sorrow and a thousand other things all at once as a tear ran down my cheek. In that instant, through all my years of training in the military, I instinctively knew that we were at war. My wife asked me what was wrong and I couldn't find my voice, or my stomach, to tell her what I already knew. I just stared at the screen in silence and disbelief.

As I tried unsuccessfully to choke down the meal she had prepared, I watched in horror as first one and then the other tower crashed to the ground. And I prayed out loud where I sat. I prayed for those in and around the towers, but more than that I prayed for my friends that I knew would soon be placed in harms way once again. Their faces and names raced through my mind; I bet he re-enlisted, he's not retired yet, either...

I got up from the table, walked out the door and pulled my wet boots back on. I picked up the bucket of fish by the steps and walked past the flag flying at the front gate towards the pond. I remember thinking as I turned those fish loose that there had been enough killing for one day. I turned the bucket upside-down, took a seat on it and thought about all that had just happened and was going to happen. It was probably one of the saddest, most helpless feeling times in my life.

I often find myself on the US Army website, reading the names of those who have died in southwest Asia. And yes, I recognize some of them by name and all of them by trade. They were my brothers and sisters and always will be. And I love them all. I would urge each and every one of you to go there for a visit and pay your respects. They are the last barrier between you and the next attack. They gave 'that last full measure of devotion' for you and me.

I think I might take my pole and a bucket down to the pond this morning and try to catch a mess for my friends. I know that they would like that, taking comfort in the fact that they are not forgotten. God love 'em.

Secrets...

No one who knows either one of us, knows where we are this morning. They don’t have a clue. We have planned this little getaway for almost a year now. Finally, here we are. As I stare out across the ocean, my mind drifts back to last night… the smell of her hair, the soft warmth of her skin, the fire of desire in her eyes. With a gentle kiss on the cheek, I left her in bed sleeping this morning and walked barefoot to beach below.

Standing there now, I feel the breeze blowing in my face; tender breaths of cool, salty air. The sun is not up yet, but the sky is beginning to brighten in the east in an array of color that was the thunderstorm that passed through last night. It turns the waters in front of me red and orange and yellows, a fiery rainbow that ripples and changes with the rise and fall of the waves. The pulsing beat of the ocean pushes little, warm tongues of water around my feet and quickly withdraws them back down the beach to the safety of their mother.

Down the beach, I hear the muffled roar of larger waves as they crash against the rocks there in an age-old struggle for superiority. She always wins in the end, I think, but what do rocks know of such things. I stand silent, in the growing light, hands buried in my pockets, mesmerized by it all… I don’t hear her approach, feather-like on the sands behind me.

She gently slides her hands around my waist and locks them together across my belly, as her chin finds its place on my shoulder and nuzzles there. A gentle kiss on the side of my neck and then we are still, frozen at this moment in this moment. Two sets of eyes peer out at the sea before us as one and for that brief instant, we are one. Making a memory that will live forever…

Copyright © 2007 Mike Lawson