I was paying for my groceries and idly watching them being bagged when I heard a young voice, speaking to the checker and bagger at the check-out stand behind me.

    "Well, I’ve got my orders. I’m headed to Iraq."

    "When?"

    "April 10th."

    "We’ll all pray for you…"

    There was an awkward silence, during which I managed to keep my mouth shut – because I was a stranger, and this was a moment between the soldier and her friends. Besides, I was tearing up, and would have embarrassed us all.

    I noticed that her new cammo fatigues were so stiff that the collar had chafed her neck. Her hat was tilted forward, and bulged a bit in the back, because (unlike the baseball caps she was no doubt used to wearing) Army issue hats have no opening in the back for a pony tail. Nevertheless, the hat was securely in place.

    Bagger: "Don’t you look all tough!"

    Soldier: "Hey, I’ve never been tough!"

    Checker: "How long?"

    Soldier: (Shrug. Small frown.) "Eighteen months at least." She changes the subject quickly. "So, where’s Sherry?"

    Checker: Working the Customer Service counter."

    Soldier: "Gotta go show her my new outfit!" (giggles)

    She leaned over to hug the checker, and I got a whiff of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo and Clearasil.

    That’s hardly surprising – she didn’t even look eighteen, though she must have been.

    Then the Army’s newest recruit strode off – new boots shining, shoulders back, ponytail bobbing - and so very, very young.

    Checker to me, with tears in her eyes: "We’ll all pray for her."

    I nodded.

    "She’ll make it home."

    I nodded.

    "Have a nice evening."

    I nodded.

    As I gathered up my grocery bags, there was a lump in my throat so big I couldn’t even get out the words to ask her name.

    It doesn’t really matter. I will always think of her as "April".

    And we will pray for her. As we pray for them all.