When uniforms blend together

My best teacher friend from Savannah and I spoke on the phone tonight and we laughed about this memory (she came with me to the awards ceremony at which Max received his Bronze Star):

It was announced that the wives of the soldiers whose names were called could go to their husbands and pin on their award. There were hundreds of soldiers in the auditorium; I didn't even know where to begin to look for Max.

Frantically, I leaned over to my right, “so where did you say he is, Karla?”

“Oh gosh, I have no idea where he is now,” she whispered with her soothing southern accent, “I just saw him talking to someone when we first arrived.”

“Well, they are lined up by company. I just don't know where his is." I declared.

Sure enough, the S1 began reading the names of the Bronze Star recipients and of course, wives began popping up one by one.

“Captain Maxwell Hanlin begin_of_the_skype_highlighting end_of_the_skype_highlighting,” he announced.

“Karla, what should I do? I can’t just wander around in search of him in front of all of these people.”

This is where Max’s and my personality differ. He claims I care way too much what other people think of me. He is right. I have actually not done things that I have later regretted for fear of looking like an idiot. This time was a perfect example. I just stayed next to Karla, sinking in my seat. There was plenty of commotion going on as people were walking to their husbands. I really doubt anyone would have noticed me weaving through the soldiers in hopes of finding mine.

So, as the S1 kept on announcing names, Karla taps my knee and says, “here comes Max right now."

Max was walking right toward me with his hands up in a “where were you” sort of gesture.

“I am so sorry, I had no idea where you were,” I explained, before he said anything. Curious, I asked him where he had been standing.

“Right over there,” he pointed, “with my company.”

“I thought your company was over there, but I didn’t see you. It’s not exactly a small company (HHC was the largest),” I confessed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Max told me lightheartedly.

“Did you have to pin your Bronze Star on yourself?

“No,” Max laughed, “a Major did it, thank you very much.”