My brother came home from the service different than when he left. Not broken exactly, but quieter. He didn’t like crowds much after that and he never wanted people making a big deal out of him being a veteran.
He kept his old papers in a folder in the bottom drawer and a little American flag on the shelf in the garage. I found it after he passed and I don’t know why, but that little flag hurt more than I expected.
He loved this country in a simple way. Not speeches. Not bumper stickers. Just the kind of love where you do what you said you would do and don’t ask for applause after.
This hex is for my brother, for what he carried home, and for the America he still believed in even when he didn’t talk about it much.