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Priscilla Cash
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I planned on him dying

Just got the paperwork for spring residency classes. ... Yeah, I'm just a bit giddy. 

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I hadn't realized this was even possible. Now, I'm thinking, someday? ... A girl can dream, can't she. 

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The first amazing moments between a father and son.

I was privileged to attend the Family Day Ceremony at Fort Jackson this morning. This is the first time soldiers reunite with loved ones since they began training, about ten weeks before. For most of that time, they have been out of contact (except for snail mail). This soldier had only eyes for his little boy. The baby was a few weeks old at most, born while daddy was gone. Just to see this soldier smiling, marveling and oh so proud, holding his little guy with careful and gentle hands was very special. He didn't know I was photographing.

It's a poignant picture showing both the sacrifice and the values that soldiers have.

Living the writing dream. Traveling. Laughing when the flight attendant said our plane was going to Canton, Ohio and the man across the aisle nearly leaped out of his seat. No, that's right, she made a mistake, we're still going to Columbia. Playing peek-a-boo with a toddler at the airport. Walking out of the airport to a shiny red car, squealing at my first glimpse of palmetto trees, writing at Panera Bread, trying out a Pumpkin Spice Latte for the first time at Starbucks. Exploring the roads, trying to discover the names of the scrubby pines growing out of the sandy soil everywhere. Hearing the guns from Shaw Air force Base. ... Deep in every writer is the need to explore and experience. Tomorrow bright and early I'll be at Fort Jackson, but until then, having the freedom to explore South Carolina is great! 

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The Swamp King

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The haunting last words written in "One Bullet Away" by Nathaniel Fick

In honor of National Poetry Day, here is a poem written by a soldier killed during the last months of World War I.

Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918


I THINK that I shall never see 
A poem lovely as a tree. 

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest 
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast; 

A tree that looks at God all day, 5
And lifts her leafy arms to pray; 

A tree that may in summer wear 
A nest of robins in her hair; 

Upon whose bosom snow has lain; 
Who intimately lives with rain. 10

Poems are made by fools like me, 
But only God can make a tree.
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