Because my friends are dead.

There are those who never came home, and those who did and never made it all the way back. Some seemed fine, and died because of the actions of idiots. Others choose poorly, and left us–me–behind.

Today is one of the few national “holidays” I care about. I did not serve, though I wanted to. In another universe, someone else is typing these words. In another universe, my friends are downstairs laughing, and waiting for me to stop screwing around on the internet.

In another universe, we solve problems with words, not wars.

I believe in convictions. I believe in those who ask not. Because storm’d at and shot with shell, boldly they rode and well.

If you wrote a check, I love you. If you cashed it, I will remember you as best I can, in my fashion.

For my people, for my friends. For those who cannot, but should.

Welcome home.