I want what he got.

I haven't always been the recluse I am today. I have traveled much of the world, met people of many races, nations and faiths. I have done and seen many different things. One particular thing I saw haunts me.

One of my adventures was accompanying husband #2 to his duty station in West Germany where he served in the U.S. Army. We lived there for three and a half years and I saw many things. I met some nice German people while I was there. I also experienced the hatred of some of the West German citizens who resented the American presence. The ex and I were very fortunate to have witnessed history before returning home. We were still in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. We watched mostly from television, but we saw the real evidence live and in person on the Autobahn.

We saw the people fleeing East Germany. They left in tiny cars which barely looked drivable. They looked like old and beaten toys that had been discarded in a child's play yard. Those little cars were packed with people, too. And they loved seeing Americans on the Autobahn. When they saw a USA registration sticker, they honked their horns and waved, and many screamed out to us. They screamed things like, "I love Ronald Reagan" and "I love America" and many chanted, "USA! USA! USA!". Some cried. Of course, we were very, very happy for them. And hearing those things was much preferable to the "Death to America" kind of shit we were accustomed to hearing on TV from the Middle East. Better even than the "AMI GO HOME" graffiti that we passed everyday on our way back to our apartment. It was infinitely better than when the ex and I were spat at and had garbage thrown on our car in the town of Dachau when we went to visit the concentration camp. Yes, the Autobahn had turned into a 4Th of July celebration and there was so much happiness among the people that we didn't even miss the fireworks.

I have many memories from our time in Germany, but one stands out above all the rest. It's an Autobahn memory. We witnessed much revelry and happiness. These things touched me, but stoic as I am, none moved me as deeply as the one I remember in amazing detail. That one made me cry. It still can. It was one of the little cars packed with people. The driver honked the horn, the people waved, we waved back. Then a man in the backseat stood up and leaned his upper body out of the window. He held his hands straight up in the air. I looked at him. He was very, very thin. It was hard to estimate, but he may have been in his late twenties or early thirties. His face was gaunt, but he was smiling the biggest smile. The poor man's teeth were in a terrible state of decay. He had thin, brown hair and we were close enough that I could see his eyes. They were brown and they were incredibly happy. Those eyes were ecstatic. I watched the wind lift his hair and blow his threadbare T-shirt against his chest. I saw his ribs. I also felt his happiness. I felt it for a fleeting moment when he shouted to us in English, "Freedom! Freedom! I am free! I am free!" I remember the ex gave him the thumbs up and I had but a moment to throw him the peace sign, and then he and his car filled with fellow travelers were behind us.

I will never forget that man. Not ever. He was obviously very undernourished, perhaps even ill, but he was free. He was free and headed to a place that had some hope. Sometimes I dream of him. I see him leaning out the window and declaring his freedom while the wind lifts his hair. He gives me hope.

Godspeed, man. I hope you found your dreams. Sometimes I still think of you. I imagine you taking in a sunset on a balcony full of flowers while your grandchild plays at your feet. You are free.