Thinking of Garrett Chidley, and all that he sacrificed.
I Get It
It used to be
without meaning.
I sat in assembly
after assembly
wondering why I
couldn't clap,
even though the
performances
were so
impressive.
I wondered
who these
people were
who we mourned.
My parents were
immigrants.
I knew no one
who died for
my country,
until Garrett.
When I sat
in my most
recent
Remembrance Day
gathering,
I wondered how many
Garrett sat through,
disconnected
distracted
hungry.
Wondering why he
couldn't clap.
Not realizing that
one day
he would be
the object of
our thanks,
the source of
our remembering.
Sally
