A gentleman came up to me in the parking lot yesterday at the market. He motioned to the military stickers required for base entrance on the lower left hand side of my vehicle. "Excuse me, Miss," he began.

I smiled politely, wanly, thinking to myself "please don't be a Bush basher, bashing me along with your tirade, and give your Monday Morning quarterback opinion of the war and this country and all that is wrong with it; (heavy sigh), I realize it is popular to, with superior attitude, pontificate smugly about the so called ineffective military strategy enacted approximately 8,000 miles away (because you undoubtedly have soooo much experience in this area) and point out the faults and flaws of this great land. I heard about the 'missed benchmarks.' I know. I'm tired of this war, too. But I love this country, and I love the man I sent into war to protect it, I don't want to send him back and I really, really don't want to hear any political rhetoric today."

"I just wanted to say thank you for your service."

I relaxed a little, gave him a more genuine smile, and said "I'll tell my husband you said that. Thanks." I started to get in my car.

"No, Ma'am. I'm thanking you for your service. I am grateful to your husband and all, and I have no doubt that he has done or is doing a fine job. But make no mistake, you are every bit a hero in my book. Your job here, on the home front, is every bit as difficult."

"Well, you're very kind, but I wouldn't go that far." It didn't dawn on me that someone other than a fellow military spouse would get it.

"I would." He looked me in the eye. "Every bit a hero. So thank you."

Wow. He got it.

He shook my hand. I kissed his cheek.

A tear ran down mine as I drove home.