The Spouse said something disturbing the other day.
Spouse: You know that we will still be in Iraq when the boyz are draft age.
Me: What the hell are you saying THAT for????
We have tried to raise the boyz to be responsible, to take responsibility, to be responsible for others. Is the payoff watching them ship off to Iraq?
Then I had an epiphany.
They wouldn’t let me save them. And that I am proud of them. Proud every time they get up from their seat on the subway for an elderly man. Proud every time they hold the door open for people entering the school. Proud every time they bend down to hear a little kid’s secret. Proud of every time they cringe at violence in a movie. Proud of every time I see them at a game, with their hands over their huge hearts, singing to the flag.
But I still have that swampland in the back of my head.