I am 7 years old. I sit on the couch, listening to my grandpa tell of places he has seen, things he has done. I see pictures of a man in a white outfit, grinning at the photographer. I listen with eager ears, imagining these places in my head, and wondering how in the world he had the chance to do all of this. I think to myself, “I want to do that some day.”

I am 11 years old. I sit in my Social Studies class and listen to my teacher talk about a place called Pearl Harbor. Here, many people died in an attack on an early Sunday morning. It was a very sad day for the American people. I go home, excited to tell my grandpa about what I learned in class that day. He was in the Navy, and he was stationed at Pearl Harbor several years later. He tells me a story about how he was there the day Hawaii became a state, and what an amazing experience it was. He pulls out this big brown scrapbook, full of newspaper clippings, graphics of ships, black and white pictures, and maps. I gingerly leaf through it, looking in awe at these pieces of history before me. We sit and talk for a long time. After that experience, something in me clicks. I want to be like him some day.

I am 13 years old. I have started to think about what I want to be in the future. When asked in class, the answers typically stay the same. The boys all answer some professional sport, the girls all answer with a vet, or a doctor, or a teacher. I proudly claim “a Navy pilot,” and get the look that we all know too well, the look of confusion, of doubt. But it doesn’t bother me because my mom and dad have told me that if I work hard, I can get there some day.

I am 15 years old. I am a sophomore in high school. In my bright purple student council polo shirt, I stand proudly during the national anthem at our high school veteran’s day assembly. I look over to the veterans we are escorting, and see many with tears in their eyes, or clutching a cross around their neck. I see the years of struggle, of bravery, of history in these figures before me. As I walk down the hallways with my veteran, I hold my head up a little higher. I am so proud to be his escort. I introduce him to the class and listen to him tell a story that, no matter how many times I’ve heard that day, still amazes me. I listen to him describe the iciness of that Pacific Ocean, the fear in his heart as he commanded the rescue boat, the eagerness to find a downed pilot in the freezing cold water. I see his eyes light up as he repeats a conversation he had with a pilot he had rescued. Later, I sit with him, and watch as he begins speaking with these other veterans whom he’s never met; it is as if they are all long lost friends. I see this brotherhood, this bond that they all share, regardless of age, branch, or experience. I leave school that day absolutely amazed. I have never been so humbled. I tell my grandpa about my day at school, and he says “Maybe you’ll be in one of those uniforms some day.”

I am 17 years old. I have made the decision to follow in my grandpa’s footsteps and set my future with the US Navy. I have received a scholarship for college that will allow me to study for four years and then serve in the Navy for at least 5 afterward. When Veteran’s Day rolls around this year, I ask my grandpa to be my veteran for the day at school, so I can share how proud I am of him with my peers. I make sure to tell everyone how inspired I am by him, and how influential he has been in my life. Without him, I would never have believed that I could get to the point I am today. I will get to wear the same uniform, the same flag as him some day.

I am 18 years old. I have been sworn in as a Midshipman in the US Navy, while also a college student. Life has never been so exciting, so crazy, so full of new adventures. At the football game commemorating the military, I am given the opportunity to bear the American flag with many of my tri-mil peers. Before the game, I walk through campus with my friends, proudly wearing my Service Dress Blue uniform. I look for my family, excited to see them, but more excited to see my grandpa. They come into view, and as I walk over, I see my grandpa standing there, smiling his proud grin. That grin I first saw so many years ago in that black and white picture. I stand tall next to him, full of pride, as my mom takes our picture.

At the game that day, I stand at attention as the national anthem plays. All I can think about is how many before me have stood at attention to this anthem in the past. How many have paid the ultimate sacrifice, and have set the bar so high for my generation. I remember the countless conversations I had with my grandpa, the numerous visits to memorials and sites in the past, the Veterans Day assemblies at school, and so much more. I think back to that day looking through Grandpa’s scrapbook, marveling at what he came across. And I feel more honored than ever to be standing under this flag, continuing the mission of those like my grandpa. The mission for freedom, for liberty, for life. The mission to make sure that generations after me will have the opportunity to learn, and to pursue their dreams. If it wasn’t for the men and women of our armed forces, I would never have had the opportunity to be where I am today. Now, I can only hope to be such a role model, like my grandpa, for a young boy or girl some day.

If you see a veteran today, please stop, shake their hand, and thank them. Thank them for giving you the opportunity to pursue your dreams, whatever they may be. Thank them for dedicating their life to making sure your country, your America, is safe. Thank them for being so humble, so brave, and so loyal.

Thank you, Grandpa. God bless you, and all veterans, today and always.