Dylan

Curiosity is a natural inclination for children and you were no exception. You asked all the "whys" and "hows" of an actively interested boy - one line of questioning always leading to another. Your eclectic topics of choice ranged from animals and the galaxy to human behavior and religion.

Once, in an effort to comfort you while we huddled in a closet as an Arkansas storm lashed our house, I asked if you would like to pray. Your solemn, eight year old eyes peered up at me from under our clothes as you said, "I'd rather cast a big, white circle around us like the Pagans do."

Over the years, my maternal job description has shifted. The things you once needed me for are different and the ways in which you need me have changed. I find I am the one asking a lot of questions these days - - and you, perhaps a lot like I was as a teen mom, seem a bit short on patience.

Now a man of 20, I look back on my role as your mother and try to be gentle with myself as I spot my mistakes in hindsight. Intuitively, I know there are others - errors I have forgotten or perhaps decisions I still do not perceive as misguided but you (or others) might. In all respects, I hope you will forgive me. You are going about the important job of adulthood and sometimes that includes filling the gaps our foundation might have missed or, at the very least, sealing our own cracks.

I have sent you off once before as a college student but releasing you into the world as a Soldier feels different. Although equally proud of and excited for you, I also feel scared and vulnerably powerless. It is a larger, deeper fear than sitting in a closet on a stormy spring day but I find myself simultaneously praying as I project a huge, infinite round plane of hope and protection around you...covering more than one base, I suppose.

In a most patriotic turn of events, you report for duty on Monday, July 4, 2011. You have always had my love and support but even that now feels different. Words can be such a poor messenger for emotions that run both deep and elevated.

The noun "Soldier" is someone who serves in an army but, as an adverb, "soldiering on" is to persist in spite of difficulties. You are a fourth generation Soldier in our family and I know you will excel as the noun even as I struggle with the adverb.

I love you,

Mom