An older gentleman slaps me on the back as he bellows a robust, “Happy Veteran’s Day! Thank you for your service!”
I feel a blush creep up my neck and cheeks as I nod and say thanks, but I’m shrinking down, down into my shirt, into my seat, into my conscience.
I’ve gone out less and less on Veteran’s Day, unless it’s to Colonial Williamsburg because my history-loving ass can’t pass up free admission to a historic site. Otherwise, I shy away from large gatherings and ceremonies.
Despite everything, my pride in having served and my reservations about my part in what our military was doing at the time, I don’t feel like a veteran-veteran.
I’ll pass on the free coffee, thanks.
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