Is there anybody out there?

It would be nice to know whether anyone is reading my ramblings. If you are, let me know. If not, I guess it doesn't really matter. I suppose it's better to be typing this stuff on the computer, then just letting it run through my mind endlessly. I'm pretty sure it's nothing earth-shattering.

Today my daughter heard me sniffing at the computer and asked me if I was crying, and I said I was a little. "Why?" she wanted to know. I said, "Because it's Memorial Day, and Benton is memorializing Daniel." And that was just after reading the Twitter entry, I didn't know about the blog as yet. Five years ago, one of the boys that my son grew up playing baseball with was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq. He joined the marines right out of high school. I barely knew the boy, but he was important to my son and therefore to me. I fell apart when it happened. I suppose it's because I'm so anti-war. I grew up in the Vietnam era, and yet this was the only person I had ever known personally who had died in war. At the time, Benton was 18 and about to graduate from high school. I was terrified that he would get it into his head that he needed to avenge his friend and his country and would run off and join the marines. He didn't, thank the Lord. But his best friend Adam joined ROTC in college and is now an officer stationed in Afghanistan. I pray everyday that he comes home safe. My reasons are selfish: I don't think I can stand another loss like that. I don't think Benton can stand another loss like that. Not without some sort of irreparable damage.

I miss Benton and all his friends. I miss seeing him practice fly balls and grounders against the side of the parking garage across the street. I miss watching him play and coach baseball. I miss the boy he was even while admiring the man he's become.

This is not at all what I was going to write about when I sat down here. But I suppose that's the way late-night rambling goes. I was going to write about pessimism, especially as it relates to my youngest brother and my youngest son. Perhaps another time.