One foot in front of the other. Socks on one at a time. Coffee steam rising in smooth waves. Sounds of hissing tires on the street. Fabric's brushing as a sound of softness when the jacket is slowly pulled on.

Walking in the breeze there are no sharp edges. Turning the corner as neatly as folding paper. The brim of a hat between thumb and forefinger tugging the fabric snuggly.
Cool breeze drifting. Cool and smooth as water running down the back in a morning shower.
If everyday was a cool breeze how would we ever know the joy of it?

A nasty bit of work is coming through the Email and seems I caught a touch of it my self for a spell. It throws shortcuts on your desktop, trys to open windowss and send you to websites. It says you have been infected with "Worm.Win32.NetSky"
Apparently it is a hacker scheme to take you to disreputable websites selling junk or malicious software for your "Protection"
If you have picked this up from answering mail from other bloggers let them know cuz the bug rides email. If you are infected or have someone that got this bug, the fix it with ;"SmitfraudFix" . Just Google or Yahoo it get the info for fixing it.. Otherwise stay prepared with good strong spyware protection

At the beach. Watching surfers catching fast closing surf. The camera bag at the ready if the big swells would come in as predicted. The oldest son out among the other dark clad wetsuit surfers.
Reaching for the mini binoculars and only found air. They were gone. Fallen out of the camera bag in the space of only 60 feet.
They weren't expensive, they were sentimental in value mostly. Loss and recrimination fought for attention. If they had only been secured to the bag.
Back and forth, looking, to no avail. The oldest boy was drying off for the ride back to across town. One more look while he toweled off.
A tall man was talking to his son in Portuguese, saw the searching and indicated to a note under a pebble.
"Found: Binoculars" etc..
A call, an identification.

At Wahoo's restaurant she would drop them by. An exchange was made. binoculars and in appreciation two gift certificates to the restaurant.

An exchange was made; a gift of a lost memory for a gift of unspeakable gratitude.

An exchange of heart felt smiles.

An exchange between what human beings do for each other.
Her gift was far the greater.

The Gym is on the top of a building. The swimming pool outside and heated.
Steam rising from the water.
The air ice cold.
One is drawn into the warmth.
After a time the thought of getting out into the frigid night air and back in the gym is intimidating.
In that pause, that moment where one is reluctant to give way to discomfort, there is a chance for something to come forward into consciousness.

In the mind's eye is the blistering sand of the middle east, the steaming jungles of Southeast Asia, the morbid poverty of Haiti.
For an instant the profound difference is as if grief were a dark cloud of disparity passing through the heart.

The cloud passed again, later, while looking out the bus window at a homeless person trundling along as if the cloud of disparity lived in their heart.
A face was reflected in the bus window.
It was mine.

A friend, a fellow in the great journey got back to me.
We met on this blog.
This is about how important this blog is.

He and I are former soldiers.
He was a flyer.
I was on the ground.
We served.
We both have the ghosts of the past.
We both have the feelings that threaten to crush us under the weight of memory.
We both survived and in that survival bear the burden of lost brothers and sisters.
What we don't share is the pain and his is greater than mine.
His pain is different than mine.
But I am here for him.
As we are here for each other.
As you are here for some one.
Here for someone who has been down your path.
Be at peace that there are warriors who think, feel, want, dream, sing, cry, laugh, smile, bow, stand tall and serve.
Our nightmares are the price we paid and who we really fought for was for our buddies.
There are survivors.
Ask a veteran who they are.