I live in a beautiful place on the top of a mountain.  A deep river runs along the base of this mountain and a path of bricks winds slowly up the side. The path allows easy access to enjoy all the beauty one eye could ever behold.  I enjoy the best of all the world by following the road through the mountains, to the valley, and the hills beyond--on to the plains--the desert--the bayou and the swamp-the road will take you all the way to the ocean shore.  

Lush forests, beautiful gardens, desert cacti, fields of wildflowers, and every conceivable bush and tree line the roads in my travels.  Vast and deep lakes, mighty rivers, small ponds, and streams of every size and shape are around every bend and corner.  The richness and lushness of this land are beyond my mind's comprehension.

Riches beyond my wildest dream are all at my fingertips.  Food a plenty in every type and form and no thought of hunger ever enters my mind.  Comfortable housing, clothes for my back, and any service your mind could desire are at my beck and call.  All my needs and many of my wants are met in the blink of an eye as I live a rich and full life of relative ease.

Free to come and go as I please, free to speak my mind, free to do or not, and free to pursue any dream or scheme, the possibilities are limitless here on my mountain top.  The land is filled with a wide ethnicity and the full spectrum of philosophies,  all creating a beautiful tapestry of a vast and rich variety.  Free to believe or not---free to pursue God or not---free to worship in any manner you choose---with no worry or fear for reprisal.

The land is here to be enjoyed, any resource is at your fingertips, and a plethora of peoples to befriend or not fill this vast land.   A land filled with riches and plenty surrounds me as I travel through this life.  What did I do to deserve all of this--what is the cost of all that is available--it all seems too simple--so easy--but there must be a cost.

Letter from my Daddy to Momma During WW II

I look down from the ease of my mountain top --I look closely at the view from my perch.  The path of bricks is not actually bricks--but letters which have been written to soldiers sent away from home to protect this land.  Letter upon letter as far as the eye can see to those removed from their loved one's presence, as they protect my right to have all of this.  More letters of love, more letters of loneliness than my mind could ever count are the bricks that make up the path to this mountaintop.

As I continue to look with a gaze of intent, I notice the river has  an unusual shimmer.  As I stoop down to observe, I notice a salty fragrance of the water as it flows.  Gazing deep into the waters, I finally see, the river is filled with tears for those who died, who were maimed, or disappeared.  The tears of loss, the tears of dreams shattered, and the tears for tomorrows which will never dawn.  The river of tears for those who sacrificed so that I might live in this rich land of plenty fill the vast river which flows to the sea.

My last glance with my eyes finally  widely open reveals the hills and the stones on their sides.  The hills of graves for the brave heroes of this land and the stones which mark their final resting place.  As they sleep the sleep of the courageous, I am reminded of the great cost of this land where I live.  A cost beyond money, a cost beyond measure--the ultimate sacrifice of their lives so that I might live with so much.  My life of ease, my life of plenty, my life of untold opportunity, my life filled with freedoms---all paid for with the lives of these brave men and women to whom I owe so much.  My thanks, my gratitude, my admiration, and my salute to all those who have entered rest and those still with us who have served that I might live in this beautiful land of freedom.



  1. Beautiful and moving post, Lulu. I have been to Arlington, and let me tell you first hand, how breathtaking peaceful and very emotional. My dad and I walked every gravesite, stopping and reflecting on each one. That is one place I can never fully begin to explain to anyone. Thank you sweet friend for such a lovely post. Blessings

    1. I have had the same moving experience & we remember every stone represents someone who was loved and lost. Happy Memorial Day, Friend as we enjoy the freedom paid for at such a great cost.


Your comments keep my writing and often cause me to think. A written form of a hug or a pat on the back and an occasional slap into reality---I treasure them all!