Desire. Hunger. You tilt your head back as I lean toward you. We kiss deeply, and warmth transmutes to heat on the softness of your lips and tongue. I... is a dream, because such turns of moods only happen in dreams, but I don't care. Your hand comes up to entwine in my hair, as my hands slide up your back to tangle in yours.You uncoil. You've been curled up on my lap, making yourself small. Now, without breaking the kiss you swing yourself around, until your back is against my chest. Your legs. We went on 27 May 1997, the Tuesday after Memorial Day. I wrote this paper for that class as a reflection on what Memorial Day means.Since then, I often wonder how different this essay might be if I wrote it today. After six years of war in Afghanistan and Iraq, and the surge of patriotism that occurred after 9/11, I hope that we appreciate the day more than I thought our nation did back in 1997. Also, I now get to work with and for veterans, giving me a much different perspective than I had. More

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