Memorial Day always brings my uncles drifting back into my mind. They served in WWII but they rarely spoke of it, at least not in front of us kids. The story I do remember is of the night they all happened to arrive home after the war ended.
It was a warm summer night and there were twelve people crowded in four bedrooms upstairs in my Grandparents house. And they couldn't stop talking. (The next door neighbor verified this saying, he and wife didn't get much sleep that night for listening to the laughter and stories drifting out the open windows.) The vision this story created for me was of the Waltons saying good night to each other at the end of the show. My uncles were great storytellers though and while the Waltons said goodnight, I picture my uncles topping each other with stories of where they'd been and what they'd seen and done. And rooms filled with the joyous laughter of being home safe and sound in the loving arms of their family.
Good night, my beloved uncles, know that you're missed, but always remembered.