As a member of the
U.S. Air Force, I am thankful …

For the wife who says
it's hot dogs tonight,
because at least she’s home with me,
and not out with some fighter pilot.
 
For the husband
who is on the sofa
being a couch potato,
because at least he’s home with me
and not out with that deployed pilot’s wife.
 
For the teenager
who is complaining about doing dishes
because that means she is at home,
not at the dorms with
a 19-year-old airman basic.
 
For the taxes that I pay,
because it means that I
no longer live with my parents.
 
For the mess I have to clean
after a rowdy dorm party,
because it means that
at least some of the people
I work and live with like me.
 
For the BDUs
that fit a little too snug,
because it means
I’ve had enough to eat.
 
For my shadow
that watches me work on the flightline
because it means
I am out in the sunshine.
 
For a lawn
that needs mowing before
the weekly yard inspection, 
because it means I have
a home to live in.
 
For all the complaining
I hear in the Air Force,
because if we got in trouble for
complaining, it would mean we’re
in the Army or Marine Corps.
 
For the parking spot
I find at the far end of the parking lot,
because it means I am capable of walking
and that my base driving privileges
have not been suspended
because of a DUI.
 
For CE not turning
the heat off until after
several days of scorching, 80-degree weather,
because it means I was warm
while I worked in my office during
most of the cold months.
 
For the master sergeant
who constantly yells at me,
because it means
that I can hear.
 
For buying new uniforms
every year, because it means
I don’t have to color coordinate
my clothes every day.
 
For weariness and aching muscles
at the end of the day,
because it means I have been
capable of working hard.
 
For the alarm that goes off
in the early morning hours,
because it means
I’m still alive …
the Air Force hasn’t
killed me yet.