Eight Years

As I type this, a group of protesters is marking the eighth anniversary of the start of their weekly protest against the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the military-industrial complex in general.

Every week, they get together at a busy intersection and hold signs, wave flags and make their presence known. I don't get down there every week, but I've never known them to miss one. This motivates them and they've developed a sense of community to accompany their sense of purpose. More power to them. The place will feel empty and alone once they're gone, even though it will still be a busy intersection.