Dec. 19, 2003 ~ Getting ready
High alert.
When he calls, I listen carefully to what he says, and listen even more closely to what he doesn't say. It's the mom version of being on high alert. Always.
"How are you, Son?"
"Fine."
And depending on the sound of that one word, I will decide that he is indeed fine, or maybe he is not entirely fine but is pretty okay, or possibly he is not fine at all. Sometimes he will not say what is really going on, and I understand that. We're all that way, right?
So tonight he called and he sounded a bit... younger. Not quite so grown up. Sort of in need of a mom.
"Have you been listening to the news just now?"
"Uh, no. I was out with the horses. What's up?" I asked innocently.
And I think I held my breath, wondering what was coming, instinctively knowing that my world was about to change.
"They are sending us to Iraq. Next month. It's for real."
"I'm sorry, Son. Is it a mission or a deployment."
"A deployment."
"Are you sure?"
He is sure. As sure as anyone can be about the Army's plans. They change their plans a lot. But it is official this time; it's not a rumor.
We talked for a long time. The words unspoken... those were the hardest. He'll be coming home for a brief leave, right after Christmas, and we may just wait and celebrate then. Husband and I think so, anyway. We'll need to talk it over with College Boy, too. I have not done much decorating, these past few years. It's a long story, having to do with the unwise decision to put the tree and ornaments in the barn. Maybe I should get new things. Because. Just because. So both boys can have a nice Christmas at home. College Boy is going away, and now Soldier Boy is going away, too.
And our town's yellow ribbons are looking pretty faded and sad, so maybe I could do something about that, too, before Soldier Boy arrives. There's not much time, but maybe... I can check with local florists and see how much it would cost to buy a bunch of yellow ribbons, because frankly, mine are less than stunning. I'm not very good at making the bows or tying them on trees or posts, either. Just a thought. Shoot. We need some more ribbons on our trees and fence posts, too.
Well.
It seems I'm thinking about a lot of little things, to keep from thinking about the bigger things.
You know, when I hung up the phone from talking with Soldier Boy tonight, my first impulse was to cry. But I decided against it, for now, anyway. I mean, who needs a snotty nose and puffy eyes? Getting upset doesn't help anything. The last time he told me that he might go to that place, I got sick. Had a flare of the fibromyalgia. And that just makes it hard on me and everybody else. So I am going to try to handle this, thank you very much, and try to keep it together. Try to stay as clear-headed and positive as possible. He is well-trained. He is strong. He has courage. The very least I can do, as the mother of a soldier, is to try to have courage, too.
So tomorrow I think I'll check on those ribbons. And rummage around and see if I can find some ornaments in decent shape.
Because Christmas is coming soon.
And our son is coming home.
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