Wreaths Across America supporter Kim J. Bell shares a poem titled "I Thought About You" that reflects on her experience at National Wreaths Across America Day.
When the alarm went off at 4:30 am . . .
I thought about you. Waking up way too early upon reveille.
As I put my heavy hiking socks and hiking boots on . . .
I thought about you. In holey socks and heavy, wet, muddy boots.
As I got ready in our dark hotel room with my dark sight . . .
I thought about you. In darkness. In the jungle. In the desert. In the sky.
As I got dressed in layers appropriate for an early winter morning . . .
I thought about you. In your uniform, who knows when last laundered, and jacket, vest, guns, a heavy pack on your back in the heat and the cold, desert dry and tropical wet.
As I put my volunteer shirt on, with a huge wreath on the back . . .
I thought about you. All the Christmases missed. And births. And deaths. And birthdays. And anniversaries. Missed.
As I got my husband’s coat out of the closet for him . . .
I thought about you. And your family.
As I made a cup of coffee in the hotel room . . .
I thought about you. And your many mornings without coffee.
As we prepared for the day ahead I joked to my husband that the next time I had a bright idea he should stop me . . .
I thought about you. How many times did you question your decision to serve? Did you ever waiver?
As we drove to Arlington National Cemetery, the Washington Monument stood tall and proud and bright in the darkness of early morning . . .
I thought about you. So many who have served and sacrificed since George Washington led the very first of the brave.
As we drove, the North Star shone like a sentinel in the sky . . .
I thought about you. How many times did you look at that same star, worlds away from home?
Planes flew overhead to and from Reagan National Airport . . .
I thought about you. Helicopters. Planes. Carrying friend or enemy? Piloting onto an aircraft carrier. Jumping out of them. Firing weapons from them. Rescuing your brothers and sisters with them. Bringing the fallen home in them.
Once parked at Arlington’s lot, we ran the heat and I dozed until we would be allowed to enter the cemetery . . .
I thought about you. You had no luxury of relaxing or letting your guard down.
As we entered Arlington National Cemetery, even with my visual impairment I could make out the seemingly endless white markers and I wondered how it would be possible to lay a wreath at every one in one day . . .
I thought about you. You know what it is to be part of the ultimate team with a mission to accomplish.
As we received instructions on how to lay the wreaths . . .
I thought about you. Remember. Honor. Teach.
As I laid my first wreath . . .
I thought about you. I said your name. I thanked you. I touched your stone. I prayed for you.
I am legally blind. Climbing the hills to lay wreaths was difficult for me and a little scary . . .
I thought about you. Far from home, in danger at all times, physically exhausted.
The exertion of maneuvering in the terrain without much sight caused sweat to accumulate under my Wreaths Across America ball cap and run down my back despite the cool December temperature . . .
I thought about you. Never able to get warm. Never able to get cool.
Less than an hour after the first wreath was handed out, entire sections were completed . . .
I thought about you. This hallowed, sacred ground is your final resting place. It is beautiful.
We stopped at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier before we left . . .
I thought about you. You are known.
I was tired as we made our way back to our car . . .
I thought about you. Tired. How could I claim to know what tired really is?
As we drove out of Arlington . . .
I thought about you. You did not die twice. You are not forgotten.
Once back at our hotel we met a couple on the elevator who are from the same area of Pennsylvania that we are . . .
I thought about you. Home. What you longed for. What you fought for. What I have because of you.
It’s been a few days since Wreaths Across America and I am back in Pennsylvania grocery shopping, doing laundry and last-minute holiday preparation . . .
I thought about you. I find it hard to think of anything else. December 17th was my Christmas this year. I gave some wreaths but what I received is you.
