You made a place for the innocents, a prayer for the dissidents.

Everyday I wake up (usually warm) in my bed, beneath blankets and sheets I picked out. They’re soft and they’re comfy. They are not rough against my face. My bathroom is a few footsteps from my door. In there I have a washer, a dryer, a warm shower a toilet and a sink. I live in a fairly decent sized house and have the ability to come and go as I please.

Everyday I take for granted the things that come so natural to me. The things I have and the ability to live the way I choose to.

It makes me think of the Iranian women Neda, who died during peaceful protests against the 2009 Iranian presidential election. She was shot by supporters of the election and denied justice by the Iranian government. Many people involved with supporting Neda and the justice that needs to be brought on by hear death have fled the country for fear of Governmental action against them.

Its so easy to take for granted the simple liberties we have, the ability to protest against something we think is wrong, the ability to think, feel and do as we want.

The first weekend in August, I celebrated my new job by taking a trip to DC to visit my friend Wendy. It was an extremely fun and humbling experience. Over the course of the weekend I was re-invited to feel the effects of war on our country when I made the trip to the American History Museum in the Smithsonian. Re-educated on the wars we fought to maintain the liberty we have today. Re-invited to feel the emotions when a little boy innocently asked his mother if “the both of those buildings fell down completely,” as I stood in front of two support beams from the Twin Towers.

But nothing could prepare me for the feeling that crept its way over me when I stood in front of the Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier. A place that, forgive my ignorance but I knew nothing about. “What’s that?” I had to ask Wendy and Emily.

They explained to me that it was a memorial dedicated to the soldiers that fought our wars and came back unknown because they could not be identified. Every day this tomb was guarded by men in service, and every ½-2hours (Depending on season/time of day) the guards were changed and there was a ceremonial changing of the guards.

The tomb reads “Here rest in honored glory an American Soldier known but to God.” The power behind these words moved me in a way that’s almost too hard to describe. As I read them I felt a chill rush over me. It’s one thing to fight and die for our country, to be recognized by our country as hero, but then you think of all of those men who fought and died unknown. This was a tribute to them.

Before the changing of the guards took place we were instructed to stand and be silent. I couldn’t be anything else. I felt my mind push back and the view I saw was not that of a 25-year-old girl who never lost anyone close in war, but rather that of a girl who lost everyone in a war. I felt the heartache of the mothers who’s sons were never found, who’s bodies lie somewhere beneath earth unmarked and unknown. For a moment I felt the loss of my husband. I silently mourned the loss of all the people killed in a war, in a terrorist act, a homicide, or an accident. And then I straightened up and felt honored and I saluted the men who fight everyday to make sure that I can wake up each morning, and write a blog from the desk of my work as I sip my coffee and eat a piece of candy.

“I never thought the world could be so small…”