Moment of Truth

Moment of Truth

While I was painting my kitchen the other day, I thought back to the last time I had painted it. It was December 26^th, four years and four months ago. While most families were playing with recently unwrapped gifts and toys, I was painting walls furiously. It was quiet in the house, too quiet, really. The entire family had been walking around on eggshells for months. And then the phone rang.

Tyler answered it, talked just low enough for me to be unable to make out his words. Then he called to me from the other room. “Mom, its Sergeant V. He wants to know when he came come by to talk to you and Dad.” Apparently, his Army recruiter thought a home visit would be more convenient.

I didn’t have to think about it at all. “When Hell freezes over, Tyler!” I shouted loud enough, I’m sure the sergeant could have heard me without benefit of the phone.

“Uh, yes, Sergeant? She’s not quite ready to talk to you… Sure, I’ll let you know when.” That’s my boy, blessed with the gift of understating the obvious.

And the paint fairly flew onto the walls. I painted yellow, green, plum. If it stood still, I slapped a coat of paint onto it. I couldn’t get enough painting done. For days and days I painted. Then winter recess ended and we went back to school and work. There, I avoided the unavoidable -- or so I thought.

Weeks went by, and the eggshells continued to be walked upon. At the same time, my husband and I had been discussing the ROTC option with Tyler. He pursued it; that felt like a better option. If he was set on going, I wanted him to go to college first. Tyler, though, continued to press the recruiter visit as well. I kept dodging him.

Finally, in complete frustration, Tyler laid it right on the line for me. “You just think your kid shouldn’t go. You don’t mind if other people’s kids go!” And there it was, the rubber meeting the road, right in my kitchen. I was too stunned to say anything. Was he right? Was I that person? Was I the person willing to enjoy freedom but not accept the risks and responsibilities that go with it? That was an epiphany for me.

Eventually I did go to meet Tyler’s recruiter. It was a snowy, blustery, frigid day. For me, Hell had indeed frozen over. I do believe I mentioned that upon entering the office. I wore black, head to foot, underwear included. My point was not lost on anyone.

After lengthy discussion, Sergeant V. asked if I would sign for Tyler, giving my permission. Sign my child’s life over? Very quietly he said, “I know what you’re afraid of.” How could he? At what, maybe 25 years old, how could he know?

“You’re afraid that you’ll sign, and if something happens, that will make it your fault.” I could not speak. He nailed it. Tears streamed down my face. How could I sign? How could I not?

Ultimately, it was never my decision. I could only choose to support my son or drive him further away. There was really no choice at all.