If Norman Rockwell had Painted it. He would have been in uniform with his duffel over his shoulder the bus waiting; and him turning, for a last glance waving with a shy smile. The doorway and front yard would have been spilling over with teary-eyed flag waving friends and family waving, wishing him well and praying for his safe return. Every sentiment would be illustrated each in the beautifully executed faces of each person chosen to grace the painting.
We cooked hamburgers, sausages and beans, which we forgot about and left sitting on the back burner; we opened wine, chilled beer and soft drinks, and the people came. They were friends and family, some from many years ago and some he had just seen hours ago, it didn't matter they were here to wish him well. People asked when he was leaving and where he would go, for how long..... much was unspoken in his presence. WHY????? and stuff like that. A few folks took me aside to ask how I felt or to offer reassurances. Some told me the stories of their own service or their sons or daughters deployment and the great relief when they came home safely. They shared of the growing up that happens and the maturity. Others were discreetly honest about their doubts . I concluded this is just one of the many things we do during these time as a people and as Americans.
So now it is December 23rd 2011, the tree is up the house is ready for Christmas, brisket and ham are in the fridge ready to be eaten on Christmas Day, new recipes will be baked and too much food will be eaten. And there will be the lingering of Monday at noon when he does more than head out for a new job or go to school far away, he will become an Air Force Special forces soldier. He will still be my son even my little boy in my heart. He will become who he is looking to be, to fulfill his calling.
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