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My boy is home!


The text came at 2:03pm.
Planes have landed, soldiers debarked turning in firearms now. Will see him in less than two hours.
Immediately, a smile lit up my face
The 7th period lesson forgotten and unimportant
as I told the students the good news
My boy was safely on American soil.
“Mrs. Victor, are you going to get all emotional on us?”
How could I not?
This is the day I had been waiting for.
The day my soldier son no longer had bullets flying at him.
The bell rang.
I was left alone.
Unexpectedly, the tears came.
With the tears, relief that he made it home in one piece.
And the guilt started creeping in
I should have been there when he got off the plane.
I should have gone out for the 18th instead of thinking they are always delayed.
I should have taken more time off ‘just in case’
A colleague stopped by and
Reminded me of what was important
I get to see my son tomorrow night!
Gratitude took over when I remembered
He is not walking into empty arms.
My sister and her kids were there to greet him.
I updated facebook
My boy is on American soil
I sent out texts and emails.
I smiled my way through carpool.
And then the picture came
Bringing with it joy and envy all at once
Joy to see my son
Envy of those who were with him.
Feelings of inadequacy as a mother hitting me hard
Tears filled my eyes as I sent my own text
WTF?! I am extremely envious of my sister and her kids being with Sean. I do not like that feeling and can’t seem to make it go away.
My friend pointed out that I would be there tomorrow.
Big deal. I should have been there today.
He told me I shouldn’t blame myself.
Ummmm…I was the one who made the plane reservations.
And then those words that I have told so many came back to me
Don’t beat yourself. Unwanted energy.
In that moment, I began to focus again
She is there for him. (I can’t think of anyone better.)
He had someone to welcome him.
I will be there tomorrow.
Peace once again.
Later, the phone call came.
The magic of his laughter as we talked about not being normal
“We have never done things like anybody else. It is the same with me coming to pick you up.”
He told me about his Sergeant being flown on a private jet from Walter Reed Medical Center.
The wounded warrior there to meet his unit as they returned.
The welcome that meant more to my soldier son than any other. 

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