Well, this is day eight, and I found a couple of old school pictures of me when I was 15. One of the pictures is of me with other classmates, and the other is of the G.A.C. (Girls Athletic Club). I know, you find it difficult to believe I was once active in sports.
The truth is I participated in basketball, track, badminton, tumbling, fencing, modern dance, and I tried out for cheerleading, but I did not make the final cut. Still, it was fun learning the routines.
The sad part was my mother sent me to live with my father for my senior year. In one way, it was a bad decision. Finance wise, my father could provide no more for than my mother could. It was a lonely year for me. I have always been an introvert, so I did not know how to make friends. If you did not know how meet and get to know the other students, they made no effort to include you. I met one girl, and she was as quiet as I was. We walked to and from school together, but we did not talk. I never learned her name.
My stepbrother had a friend I developed a crush on. Honestly, I do not remember how the two of us ever got together. My father used to tease us both about how quiet we were.
It did not last long. Just long enough for me to realize I would become a mom seven months after I graduated. I am not sorry for that. He was a beautiful baby and he grew into a handsome son. He never missed a day of school until 11th grade when split the cast on his leg and the school told him to stay home the next day to give his leg a chance to recover. He loved playing chess and he was good at sports. He liked basketball the best and went out for tryouts with a cast on his leg and made the team.
He was good enough we all thought he would go professional someday. One day in his senior year, he came and said he was going in the army when he graduated.
He had the opportunity to carry the flag on the 4th of July Parade in Philadelphia. He was so proud when he made Special Forces Ranger in the 82nd Airborne Unit. He spent his first four years in Germany before being stationed in North Carolina. It was in North Carolina that I lost my son to a car accident. I am grateful to God for the 23 years he was he with us. He made such a difference in many people lives.
Below I have attached two pictures of me in high school and one of me at 20 working in a care home kitchen. There are two that include my other sons and three or four of my son from six months old to his time in the military.
I know this was to be about my old photos, but I could not help sharing about my son. I may write about others as well. I am immensely proud of all of them. Except for my baby son, the other two also went into the military. One did eight years in the Army, then did 20 years as a State National Guard. The other did eight years in the Marines. Then became a reserve officer in the Army, still going on assignments, and he is a policeman.
I better close for now. My dad is probably looking down at me and saying, “I told you you be a writer.” Thank you for believing I could do it, Dad. I love you.
Until tomorrow, stay safe, and keep the faith.