Hitting Home
My brother, my half-brother, really, from my father's first marriage, is in the Army Reserves. Two days ago my dad called to tell me that his unit was being called up for active duty the next day, no warning, no notice. In three weeks my brother's unit will be sent overseas. Though one can guess, no one knows -- because no one will tell -- exactly where or for how long.
My brother is 41 years old. He has a five-year-old daughter named Julia and a two-year-old son named McKinley. He and his wife Jennifer just bought a new house in Boston, our hometown. Yesterday morning my dad went with his daughter-in-law and his grandchildren to a ceremony from where the units were being sent out. There were several buses lined up along the street, waiting. After the governor spoke, after photos were taken, after the morning turned to mid-afternoon, goodbyes had to be made. And my 72-year-old father watched his oldest son, his firstborn, climb up into one of those buses and drive away.
