The thousands of folding chairs were already stacked on cedar pallets by the sally port, leaving the field completely open.

I walked out to the center marker where the corps commander usually stood during review.

The granite slabs felt warm through the thin soles of my dress shoes, still holding the heat of the Hudson Valley afternoon.

A tugboat far down the river sounded its horn twice, the low signal echoing off the stone walls of the academy buildings.

To my left, section one hundred and four of the bleachers sat empty in the late light.

Eight years ago, those wooden benches had held hundreds of families with cameras and yellow rain ponchos, while my two assigned seats stayed completely empty.