Brandon called from Iraq this morning. He sounded weary and homesick. We gave him an upbeat account of the happenings here, the little guys talked to him and gave him an abbreviated account of their sports and school. He and I talked about if he was eating, if he was getting sleep, his living conditions and his general well being. He assured me he was fine and that all way well. I could tell he was just a bit homesick. After telling him I loved him a gajillion times and how proud I am of him, he was starting to sound more like Brandon. I was signing off and he said "Mom, I miss your chicken". It surprised me since Brandon has been a vegetarian since high school. I told him I wished I could send him some but I didn't think it would be eatable when it got there. We signed off with more I love yous and be safes and promises of even more letters.
After taking the little guys to school, I was driving home thinking about his comment, "I miss your chicken".
During the week, life here has always been chaotic. It is filled with work, clubs, meetings, sports, music lessons and homework. Monday through Saturdays are alway a blur. Sundays are and were spent with the family, cocooned away from the rest of the world and it is the time we reconnected with each other. As Brandon and Cameron got older, with jobs, and girlfriends, they understandably stretched it, but Sunday dinner with the family was mandatory. The menu was always pretty much the same, roasted chicken, vegetables and dessert. Nothing fancy, just a Sunday dinner.
This few hours spent over the dinner table and the chicken cemented our foundation. We talked, we laughed, we discussed politics, foreign affairs, sports, music, you name it. Our dinners were known to last about 2 1/2 hours sitting at the table. After each dinner, the boys would always make the comment "Thank you. I do believe that is the best dinner I have ever had". It was not only a Southern show of respect but it also let me know they appreciated the company if not the food.
Now my son is in Iraq. This is his third time in the Middle East fighting for freedoms and security and I am proud of him. I am proud of the man he has become and I am honored to call him my son. He's a warrior with a tender heart and no Mother could be prouder of her child.
Come home soon son....I will have chicken ready.
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I remember mom's chicken dinners. 6 kids demanded two chickens. And of course there was the mashed taters n gravy, all from scratch. Things like that stick in your mind and symbolize all that is good about mom. It's obvious you are a good mother. A treasure not found in ornate chests or 30 paces beyond the old oak tree.
When a man reaches for his roots, he finds mom is the trunk of the tree.
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