Books, magazines, canned peaches and other miscellaneous items:
$30; the cost to ship it: $65; a package to a soldier in Iraq from
his mom: priceless.
Books, magazines, canned peaches and other miscellaneous items: $30; the cost to ship it: $65; a package to a soldier in Iraq from his mom: priceless.
Anytime the telephone rings at some ungodly hour, I jump out of my skin, my heart lodged in the back of my throat, almost impossible to choke out “Hello.”
Most of us dread a call in the middle of the night because nobody calls with good news. Ed McMahon always brings you the mission-dollar check in the daytime. A call after 10 p.m. can only mean a loved one has either been in an accident and is in the hospital or is dead. The last early-morning call I got was from my brother in Michigan telling me my mother had died.
But, with a son in Iraq, the off-hour phone call has taken on new meaning. Before Ryan was sent to Iraq, he was at Fort Carson, Colo., an hour away by phone. Now, his day is late-night, which is early morning for me.
He had warned me he wouldn’t be in contact for quite a while, but it had been more than two months. Maybe not that long to a 23-year-old soldier, but too long for his mom.
That first week my son left, my slumber was invaded by a restless spirit and a dream world took over. While Ryan was driving through the desert in a high-tech Bradley with the 4th ID, my dream world became vividly clear and so alive in color.
For about five nights I kept traveling the same desert road looking for my son as I slept. Each night as I descended a sandy hill I could see the same military vehicles off the roadside covered in camouflage. The dream continued one morning a few weeks back when an update from the frontline was flashed across the bottom of the TV screen.
MSNBC reported the 4th Infantry Division had engaged in heavy combat with 40 Iraqi tanks from the 12th brigade – Iraqi army soldiers killed, wounded, 100 plus Iraqi POWs. No U.S. casualties were reported. I slept well that night, but not for long. I still wanted to hear his voice.
I have been waiting with high expectations to be awakened by the sound of my son’s voice. The rooster had not begun to crow and daylight was a few hours away when the telephone rang. Lunging to grab the phone, I heard, “Hey mom, how’s it going?” My baby phoned home.
For all the small talk we exchanged, it all meant one thing: I love you. I miss you and wish you were here.
I was teased that I have an image of a little boy, and my boy, a grown man, had his own view of his mother when I offered to send him and his buddies some hot cocoa.
“Mom, I’m in the desert. It is hot and nasty here,” he said.
Then it occurred to me how did he get access to a phone. Chuckling, my son said it was not exactly your standard telephone.
“It’s more like the big cell phone except you can’t quite put it in your pocket,” he said.
For my benefit, Ryan said things were pretty tame in Iraq, but the tone in his voice reflected the seriousness of the situation. The fact is in the past two weeks, eight U.S. soldiers have been killed and others wounded. Keep sending our troops a piece of America, let them know they are in our thoughts and prayers because the war is not over until they are all home.
Linda Lee King is a Free Lance staff writer. Her column appears every Wednesday.
