My father is a Desert Storm vet. During the war he sat my mother, sister and I down and said that he had been called to duty. If he were to be killed one of my uncles would adopt me. I honestly cannot remember this conversation much: I remember my father tearing up and looking more worried that I ever have. I remember him writing to all of us. I do not have the letters he gave me and I am sorry that I didn't save them. I remember the yellow ribbon tied around the tree that was in the middle of our yard. There were decorated homes here and there all throughout the town. American flags were also everywhere. I remember being in elementary school and explaining to friends that my dad was gone and might have to go to the Middle East. I was lucky, however. I got my father back. Every year I pray for those who weren't as lucky as I am.