I know the history is a little more grim than the wearing.
I know it's to identify the wounded or dead.
But I also know the soldiers that wear their tags proudly, claiming their identity while they live.
And I can imagine it, too.
The clinking of metal as they run.
The coolness of it as it hits skin.
The tugging of it in times of insecurity, finding a bigger strength.
And so it is my friend Lisa gave me dog tags.
Oh, it was much more romantic than that.
It is a beautiful necklace, from a beautiful friend to a beautiful person.
But now they are my dog tags.
I feel them and I feel my identity.
I tug on them in moments of contemplation.
I smile as they clink when I walk.
And anybody who cares to read them when they see them will know my identity.
And at night when I feel that cool, cool metal on my skin, I smile.
I love my new necklace.
In fact I'm not sure how to take it off.
Maybe when I am wounded or dead.