[I apologize for the long post. For those of you who don't know, my younger brother is a 2nd lieutenant in the U.S. Army stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas. He recently returned from Taji, Iraq.]

The past couple of days were some of the most interesting days in a while, and I wish I could have been live blogging them.

It all started late Sunday morning. Some Sergeant from Fort Riley called and said that Jon was coming home Monday and that there would be a ceremony for the families at Fort Riley on Monday afternoon. My dad suggested that we drive out to the ceremony. Wary of missing classes and whatnot, I told him no. But an hour later, I thought to myself, what the hell am I thinking? Why shouldn't I go? What do I have to do that's more important, exactly? So I called my dad back and after I tried haphazardly to tie up my loose ends, we were off. We spent the first night on the Colorado-Kansas border (about 20 miles from Mount Sunflower, the highest point in Kansas) and arrived the next day at Fort Riley with a couple of hours to spare.

President Bush was delivering a speech at Kansas State University, which was about ten miles away, and we thought maybe he'd come over and join the ceremony, but (as he explained to his audience) Laura was preparing dinner for Alan Greenspan and she'd be upset if he were late. He did have the effect of holding up the returning soldiers, however, since their busses weren't allowed to move until the president (who had been using the same Topeka airport as the soldiers) had taken off.

The ceremony took place in an airplane hangar that was similar to a Home Depot with everything taken out of it. I entered the building to the sound of Aerosmith's I Don't Want to Miss a Thing blaring from loudspeakers. There were homemade signs draped on all the walls welcoming soldiers home, and there were a few bleachers holding about a thousand anxious relatives and friends. The mood was festive but kind of quiet, like it was the world's biggest surprise party waiting to happen. Kids wore shirts saying "I get to hug my daddy today," and volunteers passed out breath mints to wives and girlfriends.

When the soldiers marched in, the place erupted, but the soldiers were straight faced and seemed calm. I wondered why that was, and when I looked closer, I realized that they were too exhausted to break into smiles. The "ceremony" itself took all of five minutes; as the soldiers stood at attention, a prayer was read, the national anthem was sung by everyone in the building, and an officer said a few words that no one could understand. Then, on some unseen cue, the crowd jumped from the bleachers and mobbed the soldiers. I couldn't see where Jon was until he took off his hat, and then I jumped in too. One can imagine the amount of joy and relief in that building, and to be able to observe it up close was unforgettable.

These soldiers and their families will doubtless face a lot more trials and tribulations in the future, but everyone in the room put that thought aside to enjoy one brief embrace free of worry or fear. I can't imagine anywhere else I would have rather been.