A few months ago, I announced to the world that my oldest son, my 22-year old son, Gunner, is a drug addict. I expressed my heart-ache and the rocky journey.
Today, I want to talk about my other son, my middle child, Tristan.
^^ This is him mid-sentence, because he is always always talking.^^
Tristan is funny. He’s determined. When he wants something, he focuses on it with laser precision. He’s my 6’4″ man-boy. At times, he’s as fierce as a warrior, at other times, he’s sneaking around corners like a ninja to scare me. He puts terrifying pictures onto my phone’s wallpaper to startle me, then laughs ridiculously when I scream. He throws a blanket from the couch onto his back like a cape and tackles the dog.
He target-shoots, he makes detailed leatherwork, he’s an archer. He works on a farm, hefting 50-pound sacks of fertilizer around on each shoulder. He loves DisneyWorld with the rest of us- his favorite ride is Peter Pan. He loves Harry Potter, and he’s a Gryffindor, of course. He’s a surfer, a swimmer, an outdoorsman.
He decided a few months ago, that he will serve in our nation’s military. He wants to be a Marine, and not only that, but his goal is to be on a special forces team. He wants to be elite. He wants to be the most badass of the badass. Because if he does something, he does it all the way.
Since he made that decision, he’s been getting up at 4am to go to the gym before school. He wants to prepare himself for the early mornings and tough regime of Marine basic training. He’s done all the research he can do, to prepare himself to become a warrior. He leaves in September for boot camp.
Even still, he’s still my boy. He still has a boyish spirit that alternates with his very adult goals. This picture was of him from awhile back– he’d come downstairs with his shirt tied up like a bikini top and flexing like Mr. Universe.
I voted for Hillary. I won’t bore you with the details of why, because everyone has an opinion, and I respect those opinions. My son voted for Hillary too. It was his first year to vote. Knowing that he was going to join the Marines, he felt that Trump has too much of a temper to handle being the Commander in Chief with responsibility.
Yet, Hillary lost. Trump is now Commander-in-Chief.
I asked Tristan, with my mother’s heart, if he would reconsider joining the marines right now. I said, “T, I’m afraid. I’m proud of you, but I’m afraid.”
I didn’t voice my complete worry: That I might lose my oldest son to drug addition, and I’m absolutely TERRIFIED of losing my middle son, my Tristie, to a war.
Tristan looked at me, with a very mature look on his young face, and said, “Mom, it doesn’t matter who is president, our country needs protection. It always will. And some of us have to step up and do it, no matter if we agree on who is president or not. Someone has to protect everyone else, and it might as well be me.”
I don’t hesitate to tell you, that my gut clenched up and a knot formed in my throat, and I’ve never been more proud. I’m still scared, as any mom would be, but I’m SO SO SO proud.
He will be an amazing Marine.
And he will protect YOU with his life.
I can honestly tell you that you couldn’t be in better hands.
Happy 19th birthday, T. I’m proud of you.