The Silence of Remembering

It was a hot, sunny, day as we made our way to the Tomb. Away from the city noise of D.C., the first thing I noticed at the Tomb was the silence. This was no ordinary silence. It was a silence filled with solemnity, with ritual and with sadness. We stood and watched as the military guard, dressed from head to toe in the most perfectly kept uniform, marched back and forth, back and forth, back and forth before the tomb of his fallen brothers. After a what seemed like an eternity of silent watching, we witnessed the ceremony of the changing of the guard - a ceremony, I later learned, which takes place around the clock, day and night, rain or shine, no matter who is or isn't watching. The guards, it occurred to me, are not putting on a show for the sake of the grumpy adolescent tourist and her family. They are about something far greater.

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