I last posed with you for a picture at the airport

177 moon sleeps ago.

I had to ask for the picture, but there we are in

our winter coats, time escaping too fast

my heart racing below the layers because

for the first time I didn’t know when

the baby I had born, now a man,

would return to me.

A call that few answer to serve and train

against dangers seen, my son, a Marine,

taking charge of other mother’s sons and daughters,

who said yes to “The Few, The Proud,”

Words etched in our hearts and waking moments.

So we save the pictures that come  –

a glimpse of  purpose, proof of life –

A sign that destiny is unfurling and a mother

who had the courage to say “go and be”

in certain uncertain times

while she too sleeps under a hopeful moon

dreaming of the next time she stands, arm around

her grown child, posing for a moment of proof.