Normandy. Standing on the hill overlooking Omaha beach. Speechless. My grandfather landed at Omaha. He did not go ashore the first day of battle, or we probably wouldn't be here. He went ashore June 8, 1944 as part of a medical unit. Today, I wade through water. Yesterday, he waded through bodies. Standing here, I feel out of place. It's a beach that belongs to someone else, a place we don't belong. A place we don't deserve. The thousands of men buried on the hill, the other thousands of men with memories buried deep. They own this place. I roll up my jeans and tip toe through pools of water collected on the shore. They rolled up their pants and marched through death. Welcome to Normandy.
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