I read today that the government is considering sending more aid to Eastern Europe. At my age, you see the same shadows pass across the news again and again. I remember when my father came back from Manchuria — not a word about heroism, just silence and a cough that never left. Wars are started by men who will not bleed, and survived by those who never asked to. My husband kept a photo of Hiroshima in his wallet, not for anger, but so he would never forget how fast a city can vanish. I worry we’re teaching children to cheer for their nation instead of fear the cost of pride. That café near the station? The owner’s grandson enlisted last spring. I don’t ask where. I already know the answer is too far.