My Son, The Soldier

I got the long-awaited phone call about midnight from my son in Afghanistan. I was so happy to hear his voice. I had an uneasy feeling about him all day and then he called. Call it what you want, but I believe he knew I desperately needed to hear his voice. I know it was an answer to an unspoken prayer. After we talked for just a minute, he was gone.

I got on the internet and did a search on where he is. There are lots of sites relating to his new home. Some tell of the dangerous conditions. Some tell a story of a soldier's tribute to his comrades. Some give facts and information about the region. Some are just funny. You would have to understand how the troops that are engaged in combat missions feel about those who stay at the FOB's (forward operating bases). I'm not saying I understand it all, but I've got the general idea. So, there's a video on YouTube called "Fobbits". It's a rap song about the troops who stay, guard and work only at the FOB. I thought it was funny. I know I have a warped sense of humor, but. . . .I know Trevor would like it. :)

Being a "war mom" is hard. I go from despair to elation to loneliness to thankfulness in a matter of minutes. What's up with that? I am glad my son is a brave soldier. I am proud of him and the work that he does there. But I will be more glad when he is back on American soil. He is doing what he feels he should do for his country and that is something for which I cannot begin to express my gratitude and love for my son.

I looked at my hair closely today. I have a huge gray patch that wasn't there a month ago.

I have to make myself NOT think about my son as a child. I know that he is a man now. But sometimes I still see him as my baby boy. A carefree, happy-go-lucky child. A child who relied on me for everything. A child who brought me more happiness in my life than I thought a livng being could.

I look forward to the day that I can hug his neck and tell him I love him. There's just something about hugs.

I love you, son.