I am not a patriotic person.



That's what I tell myself, as I hold my arm steady so that I can make the fifth stripe darker.
In fact, I don't think I ever was one, except when I was too little to know any better.




As my hand cramps up yet again, I try to figure exactly WHY I am out here, when the sun is setting, check that, has set, and my dad is telling me it's dinner time, and I'm hungry and this flag just isn't perfect yet which means I can't go in yet. I think I sprained my wrist, again...

It's a tile. One that's been sitting in the rain for a really long time, waiting to be washed clean of all the dried paint, the leftovers from what didn't wash off the first time it was subject to a little Hawai'i weather. It's a bright white, under the paint, which I'm trying to chip off with rocks. Freaking rocks. My dad offers a typical "yup, she's insane alright" look and a razor that'll chip faster than the rock I'm currently holding. Bonus: safety lecture (not available in all states, see store for details).

So the tile's clean, my wrist hurts, and now I have to figure out exactly what I'm going to do. Actually, I was planning to chalk the patio, but all my old chalk's gone. Pity. Next I'd planned to paint the wall, until I realized that my paints were missing. So I got Mom's terracotta markers. And started drawing.

The tile's a square. I measure everything out, starting with a blue rectangle, being as exact as I can, trying to use the reference pictures in my head. And then it's just filling in the blanks, leaving me free to contemplate my stupidity. I mean, I still have homework waiting for me. More than the usual amount, I might add. And I still have chores. And crap, I need to make oyakodoburi... But no, I'm still here coloring in the "Stars and Stripes".

The first question I ask myself is why. Am I out here because I'm a patriot? Okay, I didn't ask that. Nope. We all know the answer to that one. Then I must be out here because of guilt. Yeah, that's plausible. I mean, I had the bright idea of going to read a nice, interesting, well-written Hetalia fic. And then I had a conversation where the topic of Veteran's Day got brought up because of a stupid question I asked.

And that's when I realized that I don't do anything on Veteran's Day, or Memorial Day, or Independence Day, or Flag Day, or Patriot Day. With good reason for the last three. In my opinion, America's done good, but the bad things America has done have been rather ignored. So I usually just treat such days as any other day on the calendar.

I'm not a patriot. In fact, if being a patriot means going on about how America is the best, and rocking out to national anthem, and supporting whatever person is president, putting a flag out, lighting up sparklers on 7/4, or just being a nationalist in general, I doubt I ever will be a patriot.

But if being a patriot means going to say hi to people who fought for freedom (whatever freedom IS), means leaving flowers in the shape of a flag, means going to see a memorial full of the names of people you never have and never will meet, means believing in the same ideals and morals, means standing up and singing along to your country's song from the heart....

If being a patriot means leaning so that you won't cast a shadow while you draw in the tiny stars on the flag while the stars above you start shining, just so that you can make everything as perfect as possible, then I am proud to be American.