Last Wednesday, just before 9 a.m. my son strode confidently into the Sault Ste. Marie Armouries to begin the process to enlist into the Canadian Reserves. This was the day that he had been dreaming about for almost five years.
I still remember the moment that he told me. He had just turned 12. It was a dark, rainy evening in October. He slid into his seat at the kitchen table as I was pulling the Shepherd’s pie out of the oven.
“Mom, I have to tell you something,” he started. “And you’re not going to like it.”
There was conviction in his voice and it alarmed me.
“I made a decision last year and I’ve been afraid to tell you. I know that it’s going to upset you. I know what I’m supposed to do with my life, Mom. I feel like I am being called to serve in the military and to protect people… I feel it in my soul. This is what I’m meant to do.”
I knew my son well enough to believe him even though he was only 12 years old. And thinking about the possibility of being a soldier’s mother was bittersweet.
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