I don't know how much he understood. I don't think it matters, at this point. We haven't talked a lot about war with The Imp; he is, after all, only three. But he knows that his Granddad was in the air force during World War II, and he knows that a lot of people, including a lot of Granddad's friends, didn't ever come home.
|Granddad - almost certainly the source of The Imp's good looks|
The Imp did recognize that it was a solemn occasion. When the uniformed men in front of us saluted, The Imp raised his arm and brought his fingertips to his temple in imitation. When the children's choir sang, "In Flanders Fields" The Imp, in my arms, whispered, "They sound sad." And when the guns boomed out their twenty-one salutes from nearby Portside Park, The Imp looked at me with wide eyes and said, "That sounds like thunder."
Yes, yes it does sound like thunder.
May you never hear them in any other context, my beautiful boy.