Sometimes it is difficult for me to write about my feelings. It takes a lot of work to sort through the range of seemingly contradictory feelings and put the jumbled mess into coherent sentences. I wanted to write about Brian going to Marine Corps boot camp for a while, but like the grey murky mist which has been our constant companion for four days, I opted for just hanging in the air. Here goes.
We deposited our oldest son at a two-star Holiday Inn in La Mesa last night. This was his first step toward leaving his past behind and facing a brave new world of the toughest physical and mental challenges ever in his life. (We figured out the hotel had a two star rating because the marines use this as one of their staging areas, and there is a constant stream of wide-eyed nervous-looking young men coming and going every few weeks.)
It is nearly eight a.m. Monday. By now, no doubt, he is at MCRD San Diego and has already had breakfast and a steady stream of screaming DI’s in his face. I imagine by the end of today his hair will be gone, his thoughts will be racing, and he will be physically exhausted. This is the beginning of what the Marine Corps calls “forming” where they take dopey, lazy, kids and turn them into useful men. You’ve heard those commercials “We get done in a few hours what most people accomplish all day.” It’s true. I thought I got up early at 5:22 a.m. Marines are up an hour before that.
My son chose the Marine Corps on his own. Of all the branches of service he said the Marines embodied the ideals of Boy Scouts the most. He said he wanted to be part of an organization that stood for honor, courage, and commitment. Someone at church asked him why he didn’t go into the ______ because it was so much easier. He said, “Mom, I didn’t choose the Marines because it was easy. I wanted to be with the best.” Wow. I get a lump in my throat even now as I write this. How many 20-year-olds do you know who talk like this? I thought I knew my son but I have to admit, I had no idea his character was so rich and deep.
I have a feeling he’ll be fine. I have a feeling he will surprise me. I have a feeling when I see him again in 89 days, and watch him proudly march in his graduation, and behold the man he has become, I’ll cry like a baby. Then I’ll turn to whoever is next to me and say “That’s MY son.”
