we turned onto Kintz street because I spotted an old door with a tattered curtain.
that picture was difficult to make so I stepped back to consider the scene.
i spun around in a circle, thinking.
the little flags, woven in the chain link fence, waving in the warm breeze, caught my attention.
small tributes for remembering and honoring.
when the lady of the house walked out the front door, i kindly explained.
“I hope you don’t mind. When I saw these sweet little flags decorating your fence, I knew I had to take a picture. They touch my heart.”
She beamed with pride and gave credit to her daughter-in-law who was visiting for the holiday weekend.
“Oh, my daughter-in-law will be so happy that you noticed.” She leaned her head inside the doorway and called, “Donna, you’ve got to come quick and see this. There’s a lady taking pictures of those little flags you put on the fence!”
Donna rushed to the door, hands covered in mayonnaise as she was in the middle of making coleslaw for a family supper. We laughed over the coincidence of our shared name. “Never meet a Donna I didn’t like."
a simple exchange to mark the meaning.
where we honor those who died so that we might experience the luxury of freedom.