The camouflage outfit and steeled boots are all too familiar to me. I used to see them every night, the jacket hanging from his chair and his boots placed in the corner. I never thought that I would miss such a simple sight before; I never realized how much I took my brothers for granted.
When my eldest brother was deployed to Iraq, I was too young to fully comprehend the dangers of his situation. Even so, the fear my family felt affected me, and I too became scared. I could not understand what was happening, but since my parents were afraid, I could tell it was not good. However, when my second brother was sent to Afghanistan, I was old enough not only to understand, but to imagine “Right now, he could be in the midst of battle,” or, “While I was asleep, he could have held his dying friend in his arms.” These thoughts plagued me day-in and day-out. Was he okay? Was he eating right? Did he have reliable friends who could save him in dire situations? I missed that jacket hanging haphazardly on his chair; I missed the mud his boots would track in at the end of the day. I missed them not only because they embodied him, but somehow, through the months, they came to represent his safety.
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However, I now see that my pain was unparalleled to the pain they must have felt and the fear they suffered. While I was lying awake in bed awake, pondering if they would ever come home, they would be on a battlefield of spraying bullets, praying to God to make it out alive. I consider the experience of my brothers being deployed to war-zones a lesson. I treasure every moment we spend together, and can also sympathize and understand others’ problems. Inadvertently, my brothers helped me mature; they made me realize how lucky I am and have also prepared me for future