I’m sitting here on the couch, blogging, afraid to move a muscle. I spent three hours shoveling out the driveway this morning. I need to go to bed, but I’m sure that if I do, I won’t be able to move in the morning.
It’s good exercise, though. Our driveway isn’t big enough to qualify for a snowblower, and David can’t really do it, because breathing cold air for so long would not be good for his asthma/COPD. I’m sure Andy would help me, but he’s not here, and I found out last night that he won’t be coming home for five more years.
When he called me last night, he said he was finished with his Special Forces preliminary training, and he got selected. I knew he would; I’ve posted before about what a focused and driven person he is. I know he is happy, so I’m happy for him. But I’m also sad, because it means he won’t be coming home in June. It also means he’ll be in harm’s way occasionally, because that will be his job.
He will have eight or nine months of training before he actually joins MARSOC, and it won’t start for another year. I never have understood how the military tracks the passage of time, or doesn’t track it. At least it will be one year out of the five that he will stay safe; actually, two, since most of next year he will be in training.
This is Andy when he was four and wanted to try on his baby sister’s dress. Who knew this little boy would grow up to be a United States Marine? And Special Forces, too. In basic training, they take those pictures you see of the recruits in a dress uniform, staring very seriously at the camera. He looks so young in that picture…and it’s hard for me to see the man he’s become and remember the little boy he used to be.
I have a service flag hanging in my front window. If you have never seen one, it is a blue star on a white background, with a red border around the edges. It signifies that you have a close family member in active duty with the military. I was getting ready to take it down in a few months, but now I’ll be leaving it up. For five more years.
It hangs on the edge of the window where I pull back the curtain to look outside and see how much snow fell during the night. I look out the window and see the snow in the driveway, and the star. It reminds me to keep him in my prayers, every single day. I’m sad, because I miss my son. I’m happy, because he is doing exactly what he wants to do and succeeding.