A civilian family

After six years, we are once again a civilian family. I still get emails and family support mail from my youngest son's old National Guard unit. However, when I ignore them now, it's because other people's sons, daughters, mothers, uncles, brothers and wives are facing yet another deployment. Now, for my son, most of it is over: the limbo, the crisis of conscience, the boredom, the terror, the inevitable military line-ups for everything.

Once he heard he would be activated to go to Iraq, my son spent weeks stunned and a little unbelieving that he would end up in a war. He flaunted rules and regulations, saying, "What's the worst they could do to me? Shave my head and send me to Iraq? They're already doing that."

It's all over except for the shouting. He still plans a bonfire at Alki with some of his old military papers and uniform. Oh, and the PTSD. That will take some time, although he no longer seems to feel a need to check out every piece of garbage in the road to make sure it's not an IED. I haven't seen him dive for cover in a while.

On July 31st, 2001, he was not yet 19 years old. Old enough to vote, young enough not to care.

August 1st, 2007, he is less cavalier, the veneer of cynicism and bravado gone, weary, more wary, a growing maturity hard-won.

He spent two years of his six-year commitment on federal activation, while either training or deployed in a hazardous environment (in Iraq and on the US border with Mexico). Technically, he could still be recalled for Individual Ready Reserve. He says he isn't worried. He won't go back. I hear resolve in his voice.