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What Freedom Means To Me
Red. White. Blue.
He hears the ringing, it resonates, tinny, metallic, like the time he hit the mailbox post with the metal bat. How did he survive? He was right on top of the explosion. The ringing doesn’t last. Shots crack, skin shreds, and red life escapes. Red.
She’s astonishingly nervous. She gazes at her reflection. The law passed. Her eternity of hiding was over. She’s escorted down the aisle, her future wife regarding her with admiration. As they say “I do” her dress flashes in the sunlight, ivory white. White.
They walk together. Her tight brunette curls bob in cadence with her stride, his tie slapping back into his face as the wind journeys with them. Utterly inseparable since the first grade. Their school lapel pins are embedded in dark blue fabric. Blue.
Red. White. Blue.
Who knew colors could signify so much? Freedom comes in many forms in this nation, and each form is dyed, in its own way, by the colors of what it means to be free. Whether it’s fighting for freedom, loving unrestrained, or pursuing an education, America means free, and free means one thing.
Red. White. Blue.
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