These writings are spontaneous; just ramblings in my head that I have put down on paper. I am not an Author by trade for I would more than likely starve if it were my means of income. I am a Postal Employee and have been for over 30 years. I am not disgruntled as they say, although some of my pieces might seem that way. It hasn't been easy at times. What has kept me grounded all these years is the wonderful family of Veterans that I have the privilege of working with, also many parents, wives and children of those still enlisted, who carry on in their absence. When I work alongside of one of these family members, my troubles seem so small for I know my wife and kids are safe here at home while that person's loved one is across an ocean in Harm's way. I am proud of the work that I do but not because I work for the government. I am proud because I get to work among Heroes and their families. I've seen the worry in a Mother's eyes and can only imagine the heartache she's feeling having a son over in a war zone. She misses him so much but it's the not knowing, from day to day that eats away at her. I have seen that same stress destroy a family because the worry was too unbearable. I've seen the pride in a father's eyes as he talks about his son who is over there. Often that pride does a good job of masking his fear, but if you really listen you will know he's worried. If he has a daughter over there then you best keep your opinions to yourself about the good they are doing or he just might take a swing at you and with all the love and pride behind it you can bet it's going to hurt. I have shook the hand of many a Guard that was leaving work for a year to go over to Iraq or Afghanistan, and it took everything I had to hold it together, not wanting them to know how worried I was for a friend's safety. I'm afraid to get too mushy and let him or her know how damn proud I was to be their friend. I've seen these same people come back forever changed because of the atrocities of war. I have worked with many that have PTSD and can only imagine the terrors that penetrated their minds and won't free them and let them get on with their lives, and I know not to push their buttons when they are feeling its effects. I just wish everyone would give them that breathing room when they need it without having to pry. I have been to the funerals when a loved one didn't come home and I hugged a grieving parent not knowing what to say other than, "I'm sorry." "Thank You," seems inappropriate at the time but that's what I want to say, Thank You for your son or daughter's sacrifice because I get to live a free life. I know that the cost of Freedom is high and I can see that ransom being paid every day in the eyes of the vets and families that I work with. Not long ago I was shaking the hand of a soldier friend that was leaving for Afghanistan. I asked him what his daughter thought about him leaving again to go fight a war. He replied "She's used to it." That floored me, "She's used to it"', how does one ever get used to it? How does a daughter get use to the fear of losing her father, not knowing for days if he is safe or even alive? I remember as a Teenager, staying overnight with a friend who's brother was over in Nam. I remember us sneaking back down-stairs to watch the Late Night News. He had to see the list of soldiers that died that week because he couldn't sleep until he knew his brother was safe. How does one get used to that? I can not imagine one does. War is hell on the home-front too, I understand that now. I have seen the price of Freedom, It's cost exacts a hefty toll. I know I am blessed to be an American. God Bless the Soldier and His family for their sacrifices and Thank You, from the very depth of my heart.