She was standing under the trees at the Southeast gate just off Alexander Hamilton Street. The button picture of her son stood in stark contrast to the all white dress and wrap she was wearing. Her hair was perfectly coiffed. Her make-up was fresh and bright, masking the hurt beyond.
For a brief moment, it was just the two of us there.
“Are you excited?” I asked.
“I am,” she replied.
I didn’t have to ask if she was a Gold Star mother, I knew she was by the white she wore, but I did introduce myself as a Gold Star daughter. I asked her to tell me about her son.