Torn and tattered, the days of service for this flag are over. We must have had a nasty wind storm Tuesday night, because on Wednesday morning when I walked outside the flag pole was bent at a 90 degree angle and our flag was touching the ground. I was running late for work, but that didn't matter. The thought of just leaving it never entered my mind, I couldn't bear it. I had to take the flag down. At first the pole wouldn't budge, and I struggled with it. I tried the slip knot on the halyard, with no luck. Minutes later, after several rather unfeminine grunts, I got the pole loose and brought the flag inside.
This morning I folded the flag...hopefully the correct way. It's been too many years since I was a Girl Scout and learned flag folding. Later today, I'll take this flag to the local VFW for a proper disposal.
This flag has flown on the front of our home since the attacks on 9/11. I already have replacement flag, but I need to replace the pole as well before the colors can fly again. In a way, I feel kind of...melancholy, not quite sad. Before today I never realized how the colors affected me.
Now I do.
2 comments:
So nice to hear someone loves their flag as much as I do. I have even stopped in front of peoples houses when I saw their flag touching the gound, knocked on their door and told them so. I have done this more than once and if they werent home I fixed it for them. Thank you for sharing this. xoxo
I am so glad to hear that Robin. Things like that matter to me.
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