Aug. 12, 2003 ~ Old songs
He did his laundry, gathered up his things, and made the final preparations. A variation on a line from an old Simon and Garfunkel song (The Boxer) kept running through my head, as I kept thinking, "He is leaving, he is leaving..." As he must, of course. He left home years ago, and for the most part, I don't worry too much about his comings and goings when he does not live here. The Army thing is different; I'm REQUIRED to worry about that. Before he enlisted, though, I didn't lie awake at night wondering if he was safe at home in his bed, or if he was staying out late, or if his tires were safe. When he is under my roof, however, I shift back into Mom Mode and wonder where he is going when he leaves the house, and hope he doesn't drive too fast, and hope he remembers about that tricky spot where there are two left turn lanes. I try to keep those thoughts to myself (for the most part!) but I sure do worry. I expect it will be the same when College Boy leaves home.
It was so good to have both boys here. You can imagine. Soldier Boy was home about 11 days. There were lots of people who wanted to see him, but he wanted, needed, peace and quiet and not many people around. He saw an old friend and visited with family from out of state, but that was pretty much it as far as socializing. Some folks were disappointed that they didn't get to see him, and we were sorry about that, but we respected his wishes. Some times he was very quiet; some times he opened up and talked a lot about life "over there." Some times he seemed exactly the same as before he left. Other times he seemed much, much older.
A check of his room shows that he left things behind, again. Photos from Afghanistan, photo albums he purchased, an unopened package of socks. Little things. On purpose.
We miss him.
It's too quiet without him.
The tree guys are busy cutting down some trees in our front yard and pasture. Both trees, I think, were killed by fire ants. A pecan tree in the back yard looks to be the next victim, but we'll have to deal with that one ourselves. The front yard trees are close to the power lines, so the electric co-op is having someone cut them down. It's best not to look, while they are working, but it's hard not to.
Friday night we got one of those memorable phone calls. When the fellow said he was a paramedic calling from the local ER, he was very calm. So I stayed calm, too. A good friend had been in a motorcycle accident, and he needed us to come pick him up. "A motorcycle accident?" I kept asking. That did not compute. I understood the words, but didn't see how someone who had been in a motorcycle accident could go home. Our friend was not wearing a helmet, and he had a head injury. He was going 55 mph and was hit from behind by someone who was going much faster, who claimed she didn't see him -- in broad daylight. She was given two tickets. It's a miracle that he survived.
When we got to the hospital and they finally let us in to see him, they warned us that he looked pretty bad. Talk about an understatement. He had what they call "road rash," where the pavement had rubbed his skin raw. They're considered to be burns, and are quite painful. He was still covered in blood. His clothes had been pretty well ruined, and then had been cut away. Surprise, surprise... he was NOT going home that night, and did not get to leave until Sunday afternoon. I am concerned about him. He is more forgetful than usual, but then, he has had very little sleep since the wreck. Lack of sleep, in itself, can cause all sorts of problems. Pain pills do not make him sleepy. If he didn't sleep last night, I may encourage him to call the doctor, or possibly do it for him.
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