|My First Born in a Land I'll Never See|
“If you want me, I’ll be in Prague.”
This - from a male in my household who, just a couple of years ago, couldn’t find Prague if it arrived on his doorstep.
But there he was, days later on Facebook with a travel memo and photos ...additional flesh art crawling up his arm, smiling his little self-satisfied grin having just concluded a pub crawl with colleagues.
Me? I’m just the mother with nary a postcard over the last year of my son’s journey across the pond.
I dig postcards and implore him to write. With a pen. Oh, and to use a stamp. It's an old-school thing. He prefers cyber salutations. I harass him. In a good way.
It’s mother-guilt, I know.
It’s mother love, no doubt.
It’s a little envy and a whole lot of “missing him.”
He’s traveling into spots not far from his military duties where he takes advantage of the R & R. Deep down, I know that, despite the opportunity and adventure, he really misses home.
We tell him to “stay the course, son.” Four years is over pretty quick and there’s not much to come back to here in the dismal United States of Where-The-Hell-Are-We-Going?
The Democratic National Convention is in town this week. I’m going to observe the circus, if for no other reason than, to connect - to feel less lost, less homesick, less forgotten.
My president’s First Lady thanked my family - and thousands like us - last night in front of millions of viewers. Our Mom-in-Chief thanked the kids serving our country. She thanked military families. I'm determined to find her and hug her for that. It's a long shot but what isn't these days?
So, son – if you want me, I’ll be uptown Charlotte.
I’m going in!