Today started out as a beautiful day. I graded papers and went out with my husband to start looking for "new hotness," the sportscar I've decided I'm going to buy myself for my 40th birthday. The leaves are starting to change here in North Carolina and there is a refreshing crispness in the air.
All was going great, and then I got the IM on my blackberry from my son in Afghanistan...
It read:
Hey, Mom. I wanted to tell you before you heard it on the news. There was just a rocket attack on the base. Im fine, and safe and getting the rest of the night off. There were three impacts, one shot over my head. I don't know if anyone is hurt, but I don't think anyone is. They missed me once again. Well take care, and remember me when you hear Elton John sing "Rocket Man".
Just like that, my rare "good day" ended - and yet, I am mindful that it could have been far worse. I could have received the call or visit from uniformed casualty notification team members that I dreaded everyday that David was in Iraq, but that I haven't much worried about in the two and a half months that he's been in Kandahar. My baby is safe for now. I hate to think that someone else's child may have been killed instead of him.
Back in August, when I was in Dallas at the Veterans for Peace Conference, and later in Crawford with Cindy Sheehan, I asked Cindy and her sister DeeDee, "What should I say as a mom of a soldier who survived to the mom of a soldier who didn't? David was in the street fighting the battle in Sadr City where Casey was killed. I feel glad that my son survived, but guilty that your son/nephew died."
Cindy smiled at me, and said, "You don't have to say anything. Just give us a hug."
After the message from David, I immediately came home and began scouring the news wires for info on the attack and found nothing.
I don't know if anyone's son or daughter died in tonight's attack that my son survived, but, here's a hug to all military families with loved ones in the combat zones, just in case.