DB called today and said he had permission for us to come to the base to visit if we wanted to.
I grabbed the last of the chocolate chip cookies from the freezer, and the camera I brought back from the US for his 21st birthday, and drove down there with Ari. 30 minutes. Not far.
He was waiting for us outside the base. In the picnic area built for visitors. No one is allowed into the base without clearance. He was sweaty. Seems their air conditioner isn't working. They all take their mattresses and sleep in the work-out room. But he doesn't complain.
So we sit, in semi-darkness, and talk. He actually told us a little about his week. Mostly because he's not doing specialty stuff now. Back to the basics. Hand-to-hand combat, and hand-gun and rifle shooting. He told us how he learned to protect himself when someone attacks with a pipe or a knife.
"Haven't I taught you not to hit or kick, DB?!"
He laughs at me. "Yes Mommy," he smiles.
Four more weeks until his graduation ceremony. Then he becomes a full-time soldier. In active duty. And I stop sleeping at night.
And as he speaks I think to myself: This is my son. My little boy. This handsome, very buff, dimpled-smiling young man; he's my son. He calls me "mommy." He hugs me and doesn't let go. He's my boy. And he is so calm. So mature. So manly. So real.
I am in awe. I am proud. And I am in awe. Where did he come from?
Who is he?
He is my son. My "boy". My man of a son.
Still can't wrap my head around it!