It could almost have been just another party. A gathering of about ten or so friends sharing some good food and good conversation with nearly that many children running around, shrieking with laughter

Except that it wasn't.

A boy, maybe eight or nine, came running up to my friend Josh. "I'm leaving!" he said.

Josh grinned at him. "Oh yeah? Where?"

"To join the army!"

It's tricky for me to read Josh these days, but it seemed to me that his smile became a little more empty as he chuckled. "Oh, okay."

The boy stood in front of Josh for a moment longer, quiet. Then he took a deep breath. "Don't die, okay?" he burst out.

"I'm not going to die," Josh promised him. The boy nodded hurriedly and took off running. Josh looked at me, smiling ruefully. "I made it through once," he said. "I can make it again."

Saturday was Josh's going away party. Josh, who was supposed to get out of the military this year, has been stop-lossed and is being sent for a second tour of duty in Iraq.

Yeah, it could almost have been just another party. Except that it seemed every few minutes, someone was asking Josh, "so when do you leave again?" Except that the men were asking him about the last time he was there, and what he expected from this time around. Except that a small boy came up to him asked him not to die.

I've known Josh since I was four years old, and while there have been long gaps during the years where we've fallen out of contact, I still feel fortunate to be a part of his life. Josh is one of the best men I've ever known. I'll be thinking about him every day while he's in Iraq, and I'll be thinking about his wife and two small children.

Regardless of how any of us feel about this conflict, it's still an everyday reality for far too many men and women in the service and their families and friends. And all we can do is cross our fingers and hope like hell that they come home safe.

Be safe, and come home.