as my alarm went off at 4.30 this morning i could hear the rain outside and all i wanted to do was press snooze, roll over and stay snuggled in my warm, cosy bed.
though, like every year, the diggers didn't get to choose whether or not to get out of their comfy beds guilt crept in and up i got, threw my hair in a messy top knot and piled on my warmest clothes and boots, my ear warmers and a scarf.
it rained on and off for most of the service, but it's easy to endure standing in the rain under an umbrella with a warm snow jacket on while listening to the honor roll of men who perished under a rain of gun fire.
it warms my heart, standing in the main st with my family and hundreds of strangers as the sun rises, listening to stories of war, prayers and honors. not a word is spoken amongst the crowd, we don't really even look at each other, just stand still and silent. we might be on personal journeys, but we're all there for the same ultimate reason - not to glorify war, but to honor those who gave their lives - whether that meant they came home changed, or never came home at all.
it's amazing that 97 years later there are 4 year olds, 15 year olds, 80 year olds, and everything inbetween, with heads bowed at the stand to.
let me tell you, there is nothing quite as haunting as two single gun shots breaking the still cool air, or the lone bugler concluding the one minute silence as the sky lights up behind him. (or 70 second silence this year in honor of darwin and kakoda).
the diggers didn't get the choice of staying in bed or going to war, but because of them, we do, and that's why i will never judge anyone for not attending a dawn service - though i highly, highly recommend that you do go to at least once in your life.
enjoy your two up after the march this afternoon ladies and gents, thank you.