Putting It On

The alarm goes off early, while the world is still dark and sleepy. You fight off the sleep-warm blankets that want to draw you back in to their safety and comfort, and you sit up straight on the edge of the bed and stretch. You stand up, purpose already in your movements, and you begin to put on duty and honor while everyone else sleeps. You go about dressing mostly from memory; same arms into sleeves in the same order as every work day for the last eleven years. The vest is always first, though, and you strap the Velcro pieces into place in the same order as well. Duty is even spelled out in the tools you wear: duty belt, duty weapon. Your hands make miniscule adjustments to your belt, moving gear into place without needing your eyes to tell them where to go. Things need to be where you expect them to be if the unexpected happens; but judging by the way you prepare for your day, it would not be unexpected to you. Today you have the same cough and sore throat that have caused so many others to call in sick for the day, but you did not do that. You knew that would leave your crew short-handed, and so there you are, clearing your throat and stuffing a handful of cough drops into one of your many pockets, duty even in what you don’t do as much as in what you do. There is great faithfulness in how you begin each day, and it speaks to who you are off-duty as well as on. You wear invisible armor as well, which allows words from the ignorant and the cowards to sear, but not wound deeply, because you would fight for them, too, if they called you. They don’t understand this, but you do. It is called duty. And every day, you put it on. Today I was awake early enough to see it.