She holds the roses on her lap.(*) The sweet smell fills her mind and adds to what all will call a perfect day.(*) The sun sits high with only a few clouds to give contrast to the light blue sky.(*) An ever so light breeze cools the air to comfort.
She does not hear the words that are spoken for she is dreaming of the most beautiful little boy.(*)
She remembers the day his little sister got caught on the barbwire fence.(*) He was only six years old.(*) She watched with eyes watery with pride, the concern and(*) take-charge attitude he showed as he freed the crying little child.
When he was eight years old, the first to see a newborn calf hobbling after its mother with a(*) broken leg.(*) He told his father who went and got the rifle.(*) Her husband said it was time for the boy to go with him.(*) She said, "no he is still a baby".(*) She remembers how his little back went straight and that look in his eyes when he said, "I am no baby".(*) Her most beautiful little boy already thought himself a man.
An inappropriate smile slips upon her face remembering when he came back. He ran to her, needing a hug, just what she expected from her most beautiful little boy.
At twelve years old he was doing a man's job on the farm.(*) His father had to force him to go fishing, to have at least some fun.(*) He was so responsible and serious, but he could always make his motherís heart laugh.(*) Oh,(*) he was the most beautiful little boy.
When he was fifteen years old all the girls were after her most beautiful little boy.(*) She remembers Sally Kenn wanted him and was shameless in her pursuit, but it was Mary who held the key to the heart of her most beautiful little boy.(*) It was the kindness that filled each of their souls that drew them together.(*) She loved Mary right from the start and thought them the perfect pair.
Then 9-11 came.(*) She remembers like it was yesterday.(*) He had his father with him for support.(*) When he told her that he was going into the army she looked over at her husband. "You are ok with this?" she yelled.(*) Have you forgotten the nights you woke up screaming soaked with sweat remembering your war; well I havenít."(*) For the first time she hated the man who was the love of her life.
The words her most beautiful little boy spoke that day play over and over within her thoughts.(*) Those words sent her heart into battle with her mind.(*) He showed her a newspaper.(*) She pushed it away.(*) She had seen the pictures.(*) The second plane hitting the tower.(*) The pile of rubble and the hopeless searching for loved ones that will never return.
She remembers the strength she felt taking his hand into hers, and the concern when she asked what about Mary and the child.
"Ma, that is the main reason why I must go.(*) I canít give them anything greater than freedom.(*) It is worth the fight.(*) America is Godís favorite dream."
Her husband walked around to the back of her chair.(*) She felt safe when he placed his hands on her shoulders.(*) Looking into the eyes and that smile of her most beautiful little boy.(*) He was her finest job-well-done.
The soulful wail of the trumpetís tune calls all to stand in respect. As she stands the air flees from her lungs and feels like it will never return.(*) Her remaining children and her husband move close to steady and comfort her.(*)
She walks by herself and lays the roses upon the flag covered coffin that now embraces her most beautiful little boy.(*) She looks at Mary who is holding their son.(*) The child too innocent to understand.(*) He looks into Grandmaís eyes and smiles.(*)
She thanks God, for he is the most beautiful little boy.
© Copyright 2007 GEOFFREY ROBSON (UN: timerollin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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