A conversation with my Army son last night brought forth so many memories. I remember the little boy who was obsessed with all things military from the time he was about 5 years old.
He and I were leaving a grocery store one day, and he noticed a martial arts school had opened in that plaza, and began to beg me to go over and “sign him up”, laughing I asked did he want to be like the Power Rangers….and he looked at me, disappointed…and said “no mom, when I grow up I am going to be a soldier, and I will need to know how to defend myself”….needless to say we signed him up and he spent most of his young years enrolled in some martial arts program or another.
At nine, he found out from the neighbor kid about a Naval program for kids, and asked me to look and see if there was anything like that for the Marines or the Army…..and we ended up in the Young Marines.
Halloween was easy for us, for every year he was some sort of military persona, a Marine, a Soldier, a SEAL. I was looking through photos and could only find one, in all his childhood where he was something other than military…….a SWAT team member…
Back to the conversation last night, and the memory it invoked in me.
You see, while growing up his most favorite toys and prized possessions were "his guys" a large collection of GI Joes, he knew each one by name; he carefully protected them, maintained their weapons and vehicles and played with them almost always over all other toys.
I recall many occasions where he would frantically enlist the assistance of his father or myself in a frantic search for a lost guy. He knew exactly which one was missing, and could describe him in detail, and would not rest until the missing guy was back with all the others.
We bought him other toys, power rangers, spider man, ninja turtles, but all would be left in various places about the house, in disarray, or at the very least used as a special "enemy" for his guys to take out.
Hours spent putting together various Lego sets only to enter the room to find he had disassembled it, and reassembled it as some sort of bunker or fortification, for his guys.
Last night in conversation with him, now 23 years old and a man, I asked him why? Why another round with the Army, why this need and desire to go back again into harm's way....why can you not just stay home now, you have done your part? Why son?...........and he said.....my guys mom.....I cannot let them go without me.......I cannot stay while they go fight.....I cannot get out of the Army.......my guys mom......and the memories came flooding in.
Years ago his most precious possession was his guys, made of plastic, so many battles were fought with them, each one who fell to hard use, or a dog's teeth, were wept over.... and yet today he has something so much more precious to him, his brothers, flesh and blood, each one known by name and personality, some closer than a brother, some not gotten along with as well as the others, some irritating,but all loved, all precious.... all brothers...his guys.
So soon, I will watch him leave again, into harm's way. My mother's heart once again afraid for him, my days spent in prayer for him....and for all his precious guys.
Funny how such things turn out……
