I am waiting for some friends to come help me move furniture to the gallery today. I had asked a woman whose husband is an EMT to ask around if any big guys were available to move some big things, and it seemed that firemen would be a likely pool of candidates. Then I got an email from her that there was a funeral today for a retired firefighter and that they couldn't come til later in the day.  OK, no problem, I emailed her back. Just let me know when you get back. Didn't think another thing about it. 

I left my little town and headed into  Asheville to rent a moving truck. I like to go on US 70, a 10 mile stretch of 4 lane road that parallels the interstate, but serves the Swannanoa Valley. It's a well-used, frequently beautiful road running through a depressed rural area that is as much my home as my house is. Today, on the way back from UHaul, I noticed emergency vehicles at some of the major intersections. Hmmm, a fund drive? A bike race? Maybe the President is going to be visiting Billy Graham again? Then I realized they were all fire vehicles. And they were at every intersection, and every parking lot along the entire 10 mile stretch of road into my town. Maybe 30 or more emergency vehicles, firetrucks, ambulances and the like. And many of the drivers were in dress uniforms, watching down the road for something. 

Ah, it came to me. I had been given the answer by my friend. A retired firefighter was going to pass this way on his last trip. He didn't fall in the line of duty, but every one of his colleagues was there to pay their respects. It gave me chills. If I hadn't know that there was a funeral today, I doubt I would have ever remarked on it. But now I see the bond that this group of people share, who are there for us without our having to remark on their presence or their passing, taking them for granted. So I am sending this unknown soldier off to his final rest also. A moment of silence for him and for all of them, while they wait.