SOMALIA 1994

My phone rings.
“Hey, mom - we’re good to go.”
Dreaded words for me ~
set against the strange cacophony
of plane and chopper noise.
My son and all the other “boys”
off on a mission, an adventure
like countless soldiers gone before,
off to war.
I try to think, say something wise
before he flies so far away.
I think of nothing other than
Be careful, son -
write when you can,
then he was gone.
Months later, same phone rings.
I hear him say
“I’m home, mom; I’m fine.”
Beautiful words that bring instant peace of mind.
It’s always easier to leave
than to be left behind.

©Christina Sharik
1994

For Michael