It is my home, my neighborhood, and my history. It is what I am and where I came from. Embarrassing? Yes Boring? Never

Monday, March 31, 2008

This Shiite Sucks!

It is Monday, and I do not want to go to work, to deal with people and crap, so I whine at myself all morning. Convincing myself I am sick or getting sick, or possibly on the verge of laying on my death bed or crawling back to my own warm bed. But I drag myself to the car, up the road, to my parking spot, into my cell, and pop on the computer. And I see a message from my son, from Iraq, and I rejoice that I pulled my lazy self in to work, I say a little thank you to myself for getting it together and getting here, this is fantastic!

"shit is going down. all of the sudden its world war 3 over here. our sector is mostly shiite so this sucks. I'm not going to bore you with details. but its fucking crazy right now. sorry i havnt wrote but we are a little pre-occupied. i love all you guys and ill call when i can. i love you mom."

How am I to deal with this? How I am supposed to not scream, not burst into tears, not just curl into a fetal position? How on earth is he dealing with this, how is getting out of his bed every day and continuing on when there is just insanity? I want to get sick now, go home and crawl into bed and pray he does not call so I do not have to bury my tears and pretend that I am dealing with all this. But I just sit there and stare at the words and wonder exactly how it is that we have landed in this situation. I think of my mother who had two brothers and a husband in the "Big War" and I am a little more than jealous that only letters came her way. How fortunate for them not to get the message the moment of their loved one feels the fear, to not get a phone call from the 'front' and hear the panic in the voice so far away. I wonder how many mothers are like me and are going about our daily demands while our hearts are bleeding and are minds are shattered. I cannot even begin to think how the children of these soldiers are going to school everyday while carrying the weight of the last email on their tiny shoulders. And I get sick to my stomach. And I read it again, and again. I force myself to see the sense of humor, the strength and the love. And I know now how he is surviving. I know that without that humor and strength and love I would not be surviving.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You are in our prayers