chair opposite mine.
“Sit down, Sergeant.”
He placed his tray on the table.
For several minutes, we talked about ordinary things.
His hometown.
His parents.
His plans after the Army.
He told me he had been thinking about what I said.
He had spoken to his soldiers about respect.
He had also volunteered to help with the battalion history project.
“I thought being a leader meant making sure people knew I was in charge,” he admitted.
“And what do you think now?”
He considered the question.
“I think it means
making sure people are safe enough to tell you when you’re wrong.”
I smiled.
“That sounds like a better place to start.”
He looked at my coat.
“Do you ever think about taking that pin off?”
I touched it.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because it is heavy.”
He looked confused.
“It weighs almost nothing,” he said.
I laughed.
“Not that kind of heavy.”
I looked toward the wall.
“Some things become heavy because of the people attached to them.”
He was quiet.
Then he nodded.
We finished lunch.
This time, nobody laughed
