A Tattoo to Heal

"I want that one," I said pointing to the perfect image of a Bald Eagle with the full moon behind it. "Where would you like it?" The tattoo artist asked in a bored monotone voice. I could sense the boredom of a man used to new recruits walking in as if they were going to be the next hero a movie would be about. A bunch of kids that barrely had to shave, could not legally go into a bar and order a drinkand have never had the opportunity to vote for the Commander in Cheif that was going to send them to horrors they could not imagine. I was the typical new recruit that left for basic training with the most beautiful girl waiting for my return to have the small wedding in my new uniform. I not only thought I needed to do the ritual tattoo a graduate wanted but I needed some meaning to mine. While I was looking though the abused three ring binder of cookie cutter tattoo's, all I could think about was the letter I received half way though Basic Training. The Letter that made my heart leap and my spirits soar when I saw the beautiful hand writing of my love. "I know this is not easy for you and you are going though a stressful time. I can not imagine how alone you must feel in a place where you know no one. I have been doing a lot of thinking this past month and realize that I want to enjoy my first year of college and not worry about being a wife. I want to see you before you leave the country but I can only see you as a friend. I am sorry." I had full intentions of a tattoo that showed my torment, maybe a heart that was getting torn like a piece of paper, or a boot squashing the life out of a heart. I then saw this Eagle which to me was a symbol of America, a symbol of strenght, power and most of all wisdom. A moon, a huge mass that lost a part at every rotation, the look of damage every time it passed by, but a mass that always regenerated and you could count on seeing whole again. The combination of the two symbols made a symbol that showed my prayers. The prayer I said every night, "Lord, please give me the strength to heal my damaged heart. Give me the wisdom that it will heal. Lord show me that my heart will regenerate like the moon so easily does. Lord let me survive and learn from this pain." "So, where do you want it," the impatient artist asked once again. "Above my heart," I said with the air of confidence I have not felt since I opened that envelope.