Today, Soldier Mama, who drops her five year old son at preschool around the same time every day as I do, sat at the table talking quietly to her son as he wept. She looked at me and said, "I'm going back to Iraq next week." I watched as she temporarily patched him up for a school day and then left. Her son watched her drive away from the window.
When we first started the school, I noticed that this woman wore fatigues every day. We have exchanged pleasantries over the months, and I knew she was in the active duty full-time Army.
The teacher, who I call Russian Nazi, came over to where we stood, sat down on a little kindergarten chair and scooped the boy into her arms. He rested his head on her shoulder. She spoke quietly while stroking his back.
"She's a Major and is responsible for training the soldiers there," Russian Nazi said. "She spent a year and a half there and just came back in early August. She earned a purple heart last time she was was in Iraq. She's a hero."
Feeling helpless, I said to the boy, "You must be so proud of your Mama. This has to make you sad, too."
He just stared out the window over the teacher's shoulder while she comforted him.....
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Fat Doctor: Soldier's Son