One day during my senior year of high school, two people were talking about the Iraq War. “Oh my god, my brother is there,” I thought to myself. It seemed as if I had forgot or after so many nights of worrying I had accomplished clearing the thought from my mind. In some far away country protecting my freedom my brother, the kid that had been there for everything: bubble baths, back yard fights, high school basketball games; I forgot about him.
The next day I started wearing a Nike wrist band with ‘battlegrounds’ pressed into it and every time I looked at my wrist I remembered my brother. My freshmen year of college, my brother safety returned from his second tour of Iraq. Finally, I could stop worrying. No more panicking about late night phone calls, avoiding news footage with reports of road side bombs, reading obituaries of young soldiers… I was ready to remove my wrist band.
But it occurred to me there were so many more people’s brothers fighting; their lives still at risk. It has been over three years since I first wore the wristband and I’m waiting for the day I take it off. The day were ‘battlegrounds’ are no more.
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