Normandy is "calling" me today.
I cannot ignore those poignant urgings any longer. It is time.
I travel to France in September.
I can hear the whisper of the waves crashing on those sacred beaches - beaches which soaked up our young, patriotic blood almost 70 years ago. It is my destiny to stand again on that hallowed ground - where the earth meets a sea that spilled tens of thousands of frightened young men into the Reaper's scythe - all to stop the megalomaniacal, demonic tyranny that was dancing in our midst.
Evil DID assume human form lo, those three score and ten years ago. And it throbbed with blood lust - a hunger that would not be sated with anything other than our young, human flesh. I am being summoned to take my place on these shores of history. To breathe the same air that propelled them into certain terror. To taste of the waters that ran with their blood even as many of those faceless young spirits were swallowed whole before they gained footfall.
I can hear them calling to me. Some of them use my name. They are filled with questions that implore me to pay attention to this longing.
"Why do you think you love our music so much ?" they ask.
"Why does it fill you with such peace and how can it so eclipse the life in which you find yourself now?"
"Why have you so tenaciously shunned all positions of authority thus far and why have you always questioned the motives of superiors? Think about it. They cheered you to your death."
They ask me to bear witness to their assumed courage - their certain horror. They ask me to make the same journey again that they did those many decades ago. And when I arrive, after a lifetime of freedom that they purchased, they remind me to lay my head gently on the soil where they rest. I am promised that I will hear the sound of my destiny fulfilled. I will have come full circle. For I may, indeed, have been one of them and I will have come home.