by Kennita (Kay) Williams
I love July. The whole month feels alive with promise—the smell of barbecue smoke drifting on warm breezes, the crackle of fireworks painting the night sky, the flags fluttering proudly in front yards.
But maybe it hits different for me because I’m a military spouse.
Freedom isn’t just an abstract ideal in my world. It’s the reason we moved every few years, the reason my husband put on the uniform and salutes the flag. It’s something we sacrificed for—something we prayed for when he deployed, something we felt deep in our bones when he was home safe.
