Reflections of a Soldier - Essay Example

Reflections of a Soldier Regardless of all the hardships and danger brought about by my duty as a soldier, still, it is such an honor and a noble cause to serve my country. But what goes unnoticed and without applause is the undemanding people in my life that had given me the strength and motivation to fulfill my duty. Despite the hazards of my work, it is not the most challenging job in the world that honor goes to Ghayda. Ghayda still said yes when I asked her to marry me despite my profession. She now has to carry the burden of being both the mother and father to our three children. She has to step-up and care for all the needs of our children and the upkeep of our home while constantly worrying about my safety. Ghayda’s job might not be as dangerous but it is equally difficult. She constantly struggles to keep our house in order and assures our children that their father would be home soon. A typical wife does experience the same struggles of everyday life. But the main difference is the typical wife does not constantly worry if her husband will come home—alive or not. This kind of stress is handled by Ghayda every day. She never told me, but I see it in her eyes. Would a woman in her right mind sign up for that? My brave Ghayda did. My children are another story. Ah, they are the ones who must learn to sacrifice and come to grip with the fact that I cannot be constantly be with them especially on times that matters the most. On my last count, I just missed out on five birthdays, countless soccer practice and piano recitals, two graduations, one championship game, two dental appointments and three live births. I never had the opportunity to be with my wife when she gave birth to our children. Such brave children, I am so proud of them. As I ponder upon these thoughts…I have to reassure myself that what I do, I do because I love them, because I love my country. As I strap my vest, the one I have labored for weeks, everything that I have been training for have come to this. I am ready. I double checked the detonators. Good. The bombs are all in place. I kiss the picture of my family one last time, the last time I would ever see them again. The Promise Land The journey was long and hard, but it was all worth it. Fatima finally reached her destination, the land of “flowing milk and honey” as most people from her village would call it. “Finally, a fresh start…” She left her country to escape poverty. Fatima grew up in a small fishing village in Pakistan. Her parents, despite being poor and uneducated saw the value in ensuring that Fatima, unlike most of the children from her village would be educated. Her parents would till the fields during planting season and would fish the sea during full moon. They wanted to ensure that they would be able to support Fatima’s education the best they could. Fatima did not disappoint. She graduated with a degree in business administration and began working as a clerk for the local government. But Fatima wanted more. She was very ambitious. She wanted to break free from poverty. She would always look at her parents with disdain because it is a constant reminder to her of where she came, as if their mere presence were an embarrassment to her. “If I really wanted to escape poverty, I have to get away from here, as far away as possible and leave everything behind.” So Fatima worked harder than most employees would. She worked more shift than anyone else; she would finish all her work always ahead of schedule and would always take extra load. Her boss would always praise her but her colleagues were annoyed of her. “Bootlicker” is what they call her but she did not mind. She wanted to get ahead of everyone else. And she did. She got promoted ahead of her seniors and soon she saved enough money to finally put her plan to action. She always wanted to go to Britain whatever means possible. She found an illegal recruiter who, for an exorbitant fee has agreed to smuggle her in to the country. Fatima never thought she would make the treacherous voyage at sea but she had worked hard for years to give up all her life-long dreams that easily. And when Fatima thought she would suffocate from the pitch-black cramped and dark container van she was hiding from, flooding light suddenly blinded her. “We’re here! Get out!!” “Move! Move! Quickly!!” shouted an angry voice. All along Fatima thought she was the only one hiding in the dark container van, and yet there they were, like rats emerging from their holes scramming hurriedly out like criminals as they make their way to their rendezvous point. Fatima was very determined; it was like an adventure to her. “Finally, a fresh start…” Haikus The frog in the pond In the lily pad it sits Leaps, water ripples The winter frost bites The dying fire flickers down Make do with embers The rice in the fields Bows down to the wind and grain Until the harvest News flies with its wings Pitch darkness has piercing eyes The earth has its ears Learning Life Life is like eating fish You just eat the flesh and throw away the bones You have no need for the bones, get rid of it. Life is like living in a shark-infested tank You always swim for your life Less you get idle and are eaten up alive. Life should be like walking by the shore Feeling the sand on your toes and soaking up on the view It is meant to be enjoyed. Life should not be like a sponge A sponge is porous and absorbs everything You are not designed to soak up everything in your path. Cooking Up the World When I grow up I want to be a chef A chef that would serve the people Dishes so satisfying— That rather than leaving them hungry for more It would leave them hungry no more I will cook up a feast for the orphans A heaping full of love and care With a dash of discipline here and there A feast devoid of pain and neglect Something they could truly call their own When I grow up I want to be a chef I will prepare a dinner for the widows and the broken-hearted For the brave women who silently parted with their beloved A romantic dinner that would give them solace A reminder of the relationship they longed for and wanted When I grow up I want to be a chef I will organize a boodle fight for the victims of war and the soldiers Free-flowing beer of comfort so intoxicating that numbs down the pain Pain of battle that heals much slower than wounds of the skin Entrées so exquisite it is the best thing that they would ever taste It makes them believe on the beauty of life again and why it is worth living When I grow up I want to be a chef I will prepare a simple backyard picnic for the elderly For the ethnic minorities and the social outcast For the mentally challenged and the incapacitated For the people who wanted to belong to the community When I grow up I want to be a chef When I grow up, I will be If only I were born. 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