A Man Leaves
A man slings his pack over his left shoulder, smiles and waves. He says goodbye with an already-homesick look on his face. He tosses his camo bags in the truck and composes himself as he turns for a last look at me, the house, his home. It's not my husband leaving. He's my son. My son was returning to Afghanistan. No longer as a young man with mature ideals one moment only to react with teenage-type silliness the next. No, he was to return to war different than the last time he left our home. He had become an Adult with a capital A. His two week visit home was a gift from God for my husband and I. The Lord gave us the opportunity to see firsthand the man He was making out of our son. The son we had spent countless nights praying over. The son we had threatened within an inch of his life during his high school days. The son that pretended to have vomiting attacks at bedtime seeking an extra dose of ...