“...But I never did promise [it] to you specifically.”
“I noted that.”
“I just asked you to...?”
“Fight.”
“Mhm.”
.
.
“What am I supposed to do? Fight for someone else's trophy?”
.
.
.
“That's what I did.
Merry Christmas...”
______________________________________________
Thus ended the little "dialog" between the Eternal Weight of Glory and a tired soldier feeling more like a little boy in his cold, dark room on the eve of Christmas.
But not because there was no more to say.
Because there was too much to think about...
Ahh, matchless condescension.
Matchless abdication of rights.
Matchless benevolence.
To give the best and brightest of your talents, the bulk of your time, the vital force of your life for someone else's gain, asking absolutely nothing in return other than the honor of giving...
That is the spirit of Christmas.
