There I sat on a cold, metallic bench in the cool autumn air – waiting, just waiting. I was sure I emitted enough enthusiasm that could be felt from across the isolated field. I know there were sounds from the passing traffic, roaring jet engines overhead and of the hundreds of spectators that seemed to invade my private little moment. However, all I could hear was the deafening sound of my heart, thumping and pounding away inside my chest like an old steel drum. I could hardly catch my breath and I felt myself struggling to swallow as lumps of emotion overcame me. I wasn’t going to cry.
Holding back the tears and my head held high, I watched the seconds slowly ticking away. In just a few moments there would be a battalion of young men and women marching in tight systematic rows, parading down that very path. All of their innocent youthful faces would be concealed by the shadows emitting from the brims of their hats. Their green and tan attire made them appear like one large conglomeration of shrubbery against the barren terrain of the desert around. It had been many years since I had been a part of such a presentation.
Alas, the bugles sounded over the speaker system and like wind up tin soldiers, they all stood at attention. Row by row they began to hustle into place onto the field below and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of the familiar contours of his face. He was no longer the petite little boy I used to cradle in my arms. He was evolving into a man before my very eyes. Although the pride and joy consumed me, I felt a tinge of sadness in my heart. Would he still want me to help carry the burdens this jagged life would toss his way? This was my little man – now a junior cadet in the corps. As I’ve done in so many challenging instances before, I inhaled a deep breath of air and slowly exhaled. I would not allow my weakness to consume me. Just like the budding junior soldiers, I too would remain poised.
Although this event was an annual occurrence, this was the first my son was a part of. I remember feeling similar emotions when I sat in the stands watching his father at a similar procession many moons earlier, but this moment would forever change me. No longer could I see my baby but the man he had become. The reality was that he would not be under the security of my wings much longer and was quickly nearing a departure from home. This was the moment I feel that every mother not only dreams of for their children, but also dreads as they know they are losing that piece of themselves as they begin to leave home. This was the day I saw myself face to face with a great man.
Holding back the tears and my head held high, I watched the seconds slowly ticking away. In just a few moments there would be a battalion of young men and women marching in tight systematic rows, parading down that very path. All of their innocent youthful faces would be concealed by the shadows emitting from the brims of their hats. Their green and tan attire made them appear like one large conglomeration of shrubbery against the barren terrain of the desert around. It had been many years since I had been a part of such a presentation.
Alas, the bugles sounded over the speaker system and like wind up tin soldiers, they all stood at attention. Row by row they began to hustle into place onto the field below and for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of the familiar contours of his face. He was no longer the petite little boy I used to cradle in my arms. He was evolving into a man before my very eyes. Although the pride and joy consumed me, I felt a tinge of sadness in my heart. Would he still want me to help carry the burdens this jagged life would toss his way? This was my little man – now a junior cadet in the corps. As I’ve done in so many challenging instances before, I inhaled a deep breath of air and slowly exhaled. I would not allow my weakness to consume me. Just like the budding junior soldiers, I too would remain poised.
Although this event was an annual occurrence, this was the first my son was a part of. I remember feeling similar emotions when I sat in the stands watching his father at a similar procession many moons earlier, but this moment would forever change me. No longer could I see my baby but the man he had become. The reality was that he would not be under the security of my wings much longer and was quickly nearing a departure from home. This was the moment I feel that every mother not only dreams of for their children, but also dreads as they know they are losing that piece of themselves as they begin to leave home. This was the day I saw myself face to face with a great man.
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