Atlanta, Kind Of

I got to visit Atlanta, kind of, during the summer of 2013. I mean, I flew into Atlanta and rented a car and drove…south of the city. The trip was for a special and specific reason, though.

My mother, my younger son, and myself flew into Atlanta to make the hour and a half drive to Fort Benning. We were there to watch my older son graduate from Basic Training with the Army.

Technically, my son joined the Nevada Army National Guard. He was only seventeen and was days away from starting his senior year of high school so he couldn’t go active yet. His plan was to switch to active after graduation, but there was information that wasn’t shared with us. It all worked out in the end though.

First, that was the longest I had been away from my son since the day he arrived in my life. I was so excited to see him again and hug him and hear his voice for more than a few seconds. What I didn’t know was that the “family orientation” we received upon arrival did not include an interaction with our loved ones.

The officers in charge explained to the anxious families how graduation would work and what to expect. There were some soldiers who had duties around us, but they were not permitted to even smile at their family members. It was not easy for anyone involved. I caught a glimpse of my son returning to his barracks and my heart melted. I wanted to run to him so badly.

Instead, I respected the rules and instructions. We were told we could come back in the morning to watch the ceremony. Right afterward, we would be able to mingle with our soldiers.

Somehow, the next morning, I got lost – even with the assistance of GPS. I ended up in Alabama. We did manage to make it on time, though.

Sitting through the ceremony was pretty special. I was inspired and proud of what my son and his unit had endured and accomplished. I was also anxious because I just wanted to hug my son. My mom made a joke about what if she found him or got to him first. I told her I would knock her over, and I was serious. Not one of my finest moments.

However, hugging my son for the first time in several weeks was quite a reward. He looked like a young man, not the boy I said goodbye to months earlier. He matured in a way that was unexplainable.

We were allowed to explore the base and learned some history about the base and the Army. We went shopping. Somehow, even clear across the country, we ended up at GameStop. We ate. Then he had to report back.

Unlike most of his unit, he was not staying there to complete his Advanced Individual Training because he was considered a “split option.” He returned home a few days later to start his senior year of high school. Every month he had to report to the local armory for drill.

That summer was the first glimpse of what it would be like to let me “baby” go a little bit. He will always be my baby, but he is a man now. It has been beneficial, though difficult, to truly grasp and accept that. Now, I respect that.

I would love to return to Atlanta to actually explore the city. I have to say it will always have a special place in my heart because of the transformation I witnessed in my son after the time he spent there.