As a kid, I often wondered why I was born in America. Why was I allowed such privelege? Time wore on and the thoughts never really entered my mind as I got busy with life. But a recent trip to DC to see the monuments and visit the museums brought back those thoughts long forgotten.
I forget what it truly means to be an American. The freedoms that I experience on a daily basis compared to people all over the world are easily taken for granted. But standing at the Lincoln Memorial, reading his words inscribed on the walls brought tears to my eyes. Tears of thankfulness. Tears of gratitude. But also tears of sadness because sometimes I just miss it.
I forget what it truly means to be an American. The freedoms that I experience on a daily basis compared to people all over the world are easily taken for granted. But standing at the Lincoln Memorial, reading his words inscribed on the walls brought tears to my eyes. Tears of thankfulness. Tears of gratitude. But also tears of sadness because sometimes I just miss it.
As we continued to walk, we began to talk about the sacrifice that others have made for us. For us as young women to even be allowed to be out in public. For us to serve on a jury. To vote. To hold a job and earn an income.
And I realized something as we stopped to gaze at the flag:
I'm proud to be an American.
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