Never have I felt such an overwhelming fear, embedded in the deepest parts of my body and soul, a fear that meshes effortlessly with a false sense of security and an unwavering patriotism. Nestled in-between a rock and a hard place, I can only savor the calm that comes before the inevitable storm. We all wait with baited breath, a family, united in the worst of circumstances. And slowly the storm descends upon us, a vicious cyclone that tears through more than just skin and bone. My family breaks from the safety of our mothers pouch and leaps out upon dangerous ground, scared and frightened. But there is no room for fear. And for a moment, we are birds who are learning to fly, falling helplessly towards the ground. But, just in the nick of time, our wings spread open-wide, our feathers fluttering proud against the summer breeze. Some soar higher than others, their feathers more majestic and beautiful than all the rest. They soar on the wings of angels, looking down upon us, hopes placed solely upon our shoulders.

There’s no time to look back now, we have left the nest for good. A deafening symphony plays out around my family and me. But the fear I felt before has washed out from me entirely, for I know that even if the hands of God reach down to guide me home, I will have played my part with wings spread wide and my head lifted high.

The rock slides away and the hard place melts to mush—my feet are no longer upon the ground. And I see myself, a hero in my own right, lying upon the crimson-stained dirt, my weapon clutched tightly in hand and a determined expression still worn on my face.

Farewell my brothers. Farewell my sisters. Today, I go to meet my Father in paradise.