Finally Found a Home

When I was twenty years old, I went to Afghanistan. It was one of the single most formative experiences of my life. I couldn’t even buy a beer, and yet, there I was, smack in the middle of a war-zone, carrying a rifle and building bridges. It was an incredible, eye-opening year, though not without its hardships.



While I was there, I enjoyed going to the different markets on the larger bases we bounced around to. I bought a custom, tailored suit, had tea with the shop owner as I got to know him a bit through the process, and picked up some knick-knacks to bring home to the family. One thing I brought back was this dish, thinking perhaps my mom would like it as a place to store jewelry.

Well, it was never put to use, and eventually made its way back to my garage. I asked my wife if she would like to use it, and again, nothing ever happened. I recently stumbled into it again, and realized that it was a perfect option for straps, bracelets and spring bars. At least, it would be a much better option than the paper plate everything was living on rather precariously on top of my dresser.

It may seem an insignificant thing, but seeing something good come out of Afghanistan is more meaningful than I would have ever guessed prior to August of 2021. When the US pulled out, and the images and stories started to come fast and furious, I ignored it. But then the bomb at the Abbey Gate went off. I couldn’t look away anymore, and the more I learned about what was happening, the angrier I got. I have stayed angry about that moment in American history ever since.

I didn’t leave Afghanistan angry. We were rarely directly involved in combat, though we were outside the wire often, and close to plenty of it. We were building infrastructure, helping NATO forces and the local populace alike. It was a somewhat unique mission in that way. We could see the good we were doing every time we finished a bridge. And the people of Afghanistan could see it too. I was thanked so many times by passersby on bridge sites, always caught off guard to hear a local speak English, always grateful to hear their gratitude.

When the country fell apart, so did all our work to make a better future for the people there. I don’t want to get political, but see that happen, and see no sense of remorse from any of the powers that be or were over the last 20 years has been nothing short of anger-inducing and disillusioning. I suppose it’s probably something I hold in common with Vietnam vets. I hate it for them, that they see our leaders learned nothing from their sacrifice. I hate it for everyone involved in the Global War on Terror who spent sweat, tears, time and blood downrange. I hate it for the people of Afghanistan. The girls who will never go to school, the children who are abused and thrown out, and all the lost futures, held under the thumb of the Taliban.

Rant over. It does me good to use this little wooden dish. It reminds me of a country no one thinks about. It reminds me of tea with a man I’ll never see again, but who took the time to make me a cup, and run to the shop next door to grab a few candies for us both. It reminds me of the Hindu Kush Mountains, the vista at Sharana, and the desert of Helmand Province. It reminds me of the good so many service members did while there, and that I had the privilege of being a part of. And that those things are true, no matter what happened in 2021. Finally, it makes me smile from the irony of it being from a country that has shown the world and centuries worth of invading governments: “You have all the watches, but we have all the time.”

If you’ve read this far, thanks for indulging my therapy session. I haven’t been active on here in a while, but I got to thinking this might be a worthwhile thing for me to write out, and that maybe this is a story some of you would appreciate. I hope it shows how much I appreciate this community. And of course, for those curious, I wore a G-Shock while in country.