I found the flag in a thrift store, discarded and forgotten. People walked past it without noticing. But it wasn’t a normal flag.

I knew from its size and construction the flag had once draped a veteran’s casket.

I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t leave it there. I couldn’t ignore the service it represented.

I carefully folded the flag and carried it to the register. I dropped two dollars on the counter.

Now it’s folded properly, in a case, and displayed with respect.

I don’t know who it belonged to. It doesn’t matter. They probably didn’t know me either. But they made sacrifices on my behalf.

We don’t always know those whom we serve, but they are our brothers and sisters.

They are us.