So there I was. Sitting on the porch. My father, my brothers, and I. Each enjoying a glass of port or whiskey or rye. Each enjoying a cigar or a tobacco pipe.
We relaxed and discussed matters that peaked our interests. Politics, history, the upcoming fight between Floyd Mayweather and Connor McGregor, and such.
Eventually the topic turned towards war. The legends, quotes, and feats of wars past and present. We talked about the somewhat humorous side of war.
And we talked about the sadness and loss that war can bring.
We talked about my friend, now buried in Arlington National Cemetery, and of the courage and sacrifice that he and many like him had made.
The feelings of mourning over his loss still fresh to me.
Then she came up to me. My 7 year old Cousin. With a bow in her hair. Still as adorable as when she was the flower girl at my wedding. She was struggling to get a lid off of a jar.
The jars lid had holes in it. She handed it to me and said, “I saw some big lightning bugs outside. Wanna help me catch one?”
…. You are Damn right I helped her catch that firefly.