Daniel remembered them all, the ghosts from his past. His mother, his father. The siblings he hadn’t spoken to in decades when he had heard of their deaths. Worse were the comrades who had fallen in battle while he had survived. Especially one. Why had he survived? He wasn’t stronger or braver. He hadn’t been a better shot. He remembered lying on his stomach behind piled sandbags, firing blindly at an enemy he couldn’t see, shells and bullets whistling all around him.
What a beautiful story. I know we haven't made it all the way to acceptance of differences but I celebrate the steps that have been accomplished. Bono sang in a song that the colour of a man's skin should be looked at in the same way as the colour of his eyes. Oh, how I dream one day that will be true for all of our differences. One generation at a time.
A heartfelt story and true for many who have held their love in secret.
A heartfelt story, I'm sure close to real for many 🙏
What a beautiful story. I know we haven't made it all the way to acceptance of differences but I celebrate the steps that have been accomplished. Bono sang in a song that the colour of a man's skin should be looked at in the same way as the colour of his eyes. Oh, how I dream one day that will be true for all of our differences. One generation at a time.