Beautiful War

Growing up in a military family it is a normal thing to go to military hospitals for regular doctor appointment, and seeing the affects of war first-hand, was always just something that went along with the deal. As a young girl I saw the amputees walking, rolling, and sitting throughout the halls of Walter Reed, it was something so routine for me that I never really understood the impact it had on me until I grew up, and grew wiser. It is so easy for people to forget the sacrifices that those, who did not perish on the battlefield, serving our country have made. As someone who grew up around them, I admit that I too was desensitized. As the years went by, and I went off to college, where I was no longer able to go to Walter Reed for my medical appointments, I was able to see things in a new light, with opened eyes, and a new understanding.

Three years ago I moved back to Maryland, and in that I moved back to Walter Reed. Walking the halls of the hospital is a new experience for me, and now when I see the young men and women walking, rolling, and sitting throughout those halls, I am able to identify with them more, not because I had ever lost a limb, or thank god, lost a relative, but, because looking around at those faces I see my friends, my colleagues, and young adults my age.

War is not a pretty thing. It is not as simple as; go, fight, die, or; go, fight, come home whole. It is messy and it is ugly, and those fortunate to come home are never truly whole. While people may respect and even applaud our soldiers, they will never truly understand all that they have sacrificed for our country, until they themselves walk through the halls of a military hospital. Until they themselves see those who walk, roll, and sit throughout its corridors.

Sometimes even those surrounded by the military, and see the underbelly of it's facade, need to take a step back and clean the smog from their eyes, because sometimes the more you surround yourself with something, the less, overtime, you see.