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‘Yes, ma ‘am. At your service.’
She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn’t quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.
She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X.Davidson, USMC, 1943. She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944. She paused for a second.
‘Two more, son, and we’ll be done’
I almost didn’t say anything, but, ‘Yes, ma’am. Take your time.’
She looked confused. ‘Where’s the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.’
I pointed with my chin. ‘That way, ma’am.’
‘Oh!’ she chuckled quietly. ‘Son, me and old age ain’t too friendly.’
She headed down the walk I’d pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn’t make out.
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