I kiss my hubby good-bye every morning.
I can call him at work if I need to.
I know approximately what time he'll be home every evening.
And sadly I have to admit that I often take that for granted.
I go to the grocery store when I'm out of something.
The shelves almost always have what I'm looking for, or something similar to substitute.
It's a guarantee that my hot water, heat, and electricity will work every day.
And if it doesn't, there's a phone number I can call.
I often take this for granted.
I can turn on my computer and check e-mail or Facebook for family status and updates.
I can call them on the phone and talk with worrying about excessive costs.
There's no line of people behind me waiting to use the phone.
I often take this for granted.
I plan the meals in our household.
I choose what to serve, and how to cook it.
If we go out, I have a plethora of items to choose from.
I almost always take this for granted.
So today, on Veteran's Day, I'm thankful to all my family and friends, past and present, who have spent years of their lives waiting in line to make that weekly or monthly phone call home; who have waited for the monthly mail call to see if they had a letter from a loved one; whose choice of food was a dried pre-packaged meal, or one small market that had limited supply of items, or had to stare at empty shelves on the ship because the Navy vessel was low on supplies; who miss their loved ones and for months at a time have to let a phone call or e-mail suffice, who miss birthdays and holidays and births and deaths and who could use a hug after having rounds of mortars shot at them, but will instead go back to a dusty tent and a rough cot.
"Thank you" sounds so simple, but it's the only words I know to say.
I can call him at work if I need to.
I know approximately what time he'll be home every evening.
And sadly I have to admit that I often take that for granted.
I go to the grocery store when I'm out of something.
The shelves almost always have what I'm looking for, or something similar to substitute.
It's a guarantee that my hot water, heat, and electricity will work every day.
And if it doesn't, there's a phone number I can call.
I often take this for granted.
I can turn on my computer and check e-mail or Facebook for family status and updates.
I can call them on the phone and talk with worrying about excessive costs.
There's no line of people behind me waiting to use the phone.
I often take this for granted.
I plan the meals in our household.
I choose what to serve, and how to cook it.
If we go out, I have a plethora of items to choose from.
I almost always take this for granted.
So today, on Veteran's Day, I'm thankful to all my family and friends, past and present, who have spent years of their lives waiting in line to make that weekly or monthly phone call home; who have waited for the monthly mail call to see if they had a letter from a loved one; whose choice of food was a dried pre-packaged meal, or one small market that had limited supply of items, or had to stare at empty shelves on the ship because the Navy vessel was low on supplies; who miss their loved ones and for months at a time have to let a phone call or e-mail suffice, who miss birthdays and holidays and births and deaths and who could use a hug after having rounds of mortars shot at them, but will instead go back to a dusty tent and a rough cot.
"Thank you" sounds so simple, but it's the only words I know to say.
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