My home is Northern Michigan….
My home is Northern Michigan
I sat by the Cherry trees of Michigan in Northern Michigan and I remembered a good friend. We were not young, we were serving in the Army. 25 years, a soldier, my friend was.
He loved the forest, loved great talks and he loved his daughters.
I sat by his grave, pulling out the dead weeds by his gravestone. I told him, I remember you. I remembered you told me. I am a Northern Michigan man, Sgt. C. We befriended and we served in the same unit for almost 10 years. Our families became close and our children grew-up tall together.
Now I sit alone and I wished I made more time for the kind man who fixed my car, when needed. Allowed me to share meals with his family when I had no-one. I remember being with him when his life fell apart. Today the sun is bright and the cherry trees are so damn alive and beautiful. Bright white and pink flowers blessing the day.
I know the city you loved, stopped moving for you. So many came to say goodbye to you my friend. I know you would had disliked the attention but old friend, Northern Michigan is still so beautiful. Once, you told me of the Port Austin.
I visit Port Austin often and I burn sage for your memory. The war is over for you now and I know you are watching your girls from heaven. I pray you found the deep forest, beautiful sea and your favorite beer.
I wish I could, thank you for your friendship. I have become closed-in and seek the solitude of the forest, of the great lakes. My wars is not over for me. I am trying to tell people, great boys, women and men had died, still dying for people with no concern for us. Time to bring the soldiers home, enough death for people, we cannot change.
I watch WWE, ensure I make time for my children. You were my mentor, taught the wild man. You can’t walk alone. I told the lonely grave, you are a grandfather and the first boy, looked like you. Your girls, they are strong and beautiful. You would be so proud of them. I try to stay in contact with them and I know. If God is kind. You are their Angel watching over them. I will go to Port Austin in July. Drink some beer, watch my grandchildren dance with Lake Huron and I know. You are sitting with me by the free lake. I am getting older and I pray one day. I can join you at the soldier table. We will talk of things done and forgotten.