Dear Soldier.

Dear Soldier,
You dedicated your life in order to make my life simple. You spend your time in fear all so I can feel safe when I sleep at night. You raise your gun so that I can experience peace in my days. You stand united so this country can strive.

You made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure that this nation can prosper as a land of opportunity and happiness. You did that. You did that for all of us; your family, friends and millions of complete strangers. I speak for many others when I say, I appreciate your service and will never forgot, or look beyond what you do. Whether you have served, are serving or will serve, you are the reason America stands.

In the time to come, I send my prayers and best of intentions. I will work extremely hard to be the best person I can be, because you make the mold of humanity. You serve with compassion, passion and dedication and for that I respect you entirely.

Thank you again.

A pebble, or a rock.

Compassion. There isn't much I can write that would truly satisfy my interest in this word and its meaning. If you have compassion in everything you do, you will find no trouble in helping others. My father tells me on many occasions..."Nick, its all about the little things we can do that help." The little things add up, and though they may pale in comparison towards what others can accomplish...realize that noone is comparing. Whether you throw a pebble, or a rock...your efforts will be realized.

I am very interested in starting a non-profit, do any of OB's readers know anything about how to begin this journey?

N.B.

Love is...

We wait for it. We wait for it to knock us off of our feet; love is a many splendid thing. We sing about it, write about it, dream about it and live for it. We tell each other, "I love you" when things are happy, scary, sad, etc. Love is the ultimate healing agent when bliss becomes skewed, it is the boundary breaker when happiness is already reached.

I've closed my mind to love for the past year. I laughed in anyone's face if they even tried bringing a "gushy" story up to me. I planted my feet so deep into cement that I knew that I wouldn't fall back into, the self titled, "trap."

As the year grew older, I would notice moments of weakness, more often. I'd have nights where I would want nothing more than to be in that safe feeling place, with the ideal person. I assume it is because I grow more sentimental in the fall and winter months, but lately I am so ready for it. I want to be that split second of an unrealized smile for someone as they see me walk in the room. I want to be the one they call with an amazing story. I would happily be the shoulder they cry on. Love is a many splendid thing.

I had a dream.

I was laying in my bed, it was late. My open book was face down on the bed beside me as I stared at the ceiling. I could feel that something was wrong. Not necessarily, horribly wrong...I just wasn't content in this particular moment. I was seemingly calm, perhaps lulled by the sound of cars zipping past the street outside my home. My focus was clearly anywhere but on the book beside me, and not too committed to the sound of vehicles either. I just talked to the ceiling. My focus broke, however, when I heard the front door open, and footsteps approach. I closed my eyes to pretend to sleep and my heart started pounding. I instantly got those butterflies; the ones that begin in your palms and run through your entire body. I heard footsteps and realized that you were walking around the house, our home, taking care of something. I kept my eyes closed, for some reason...I just remember they would not open; not until I heard your voice. You walked in, in your flannel pajamas and glasses. You immediately smiled, I smiled back at you. My heart kept pounding, but I realized it wasn't fear or uncertainty. It was the pure fact that I was at my house, but I wasn't home until you were with me. It was real, it was simple, it was love.


I get it, atleast for today.

Love on my friends, love on.

N.J.