The Girl and I got to spend some time together this afternoon, just the two us.  Armed with coupons from Chris, we went to Burger King where we had Whopper Juniors and fries, and we split a caramel sundae.  Behind us in line were several soldiers.

Not one of them looked over 16, but I’ll assume they were at least 18.  I know they could have been younger than 18 and in an Army ROTC program in a local high school, yet I don’t think so.  They seemed youthful, certainly, but they lacked the swagger of high school upperclassmen.  While high school juniors and seniors often strut around like they know everything, these young men and women seemed green and excited.  And dare I say a little nervous?

One of them was with a woman who appeared to be his mom.  One of them ordered a kids meal.  And one of them, a young woman, looked to be by herself.  She was clearly with the group, as demonstrated by her teasing manner with all of them, particularly the one with his mother and the one who ordered the kids meal.  But she was also very alone.  Everyone else had paired up, either with civilians or each other, while they waited for their orders; but she stood off to the side, by herself, with only a veneer of self-assurance to keep her company.  I considered inviting her to join us, but as quickly as they came in they left, piling into a couple of SUVs and racing out of the parking lot.

These are somebody’s children, I thought, but The Girl brought me out of my reverie.  “Caramel is long,” she said, as a string of the confection stretched from her mouth, to the spoon, to the sundae container.  I had to chuckle.

I often pray for the men and women in the armed forces, along with their spouses and children who are left at home.  But today I’ll add their parents to my prayers, because I’m sure they would love to share just one more sundae with their kids.