{"id":42258,"date":"2017-08-06T06:45:46","date_gmt":"2017-08-06T10:45:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=42258"},"modified":"2017-08-06T06:45:46","modified_gmt":"2017-08-06T10:45:46","slug":"soldiercook","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2017\/08\/soldiercook\/","title":{"rendered":"Soldier\/Cook"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>It is just past five<br \/>\nand I have woken up my boyfriend,<br \/>\nwho&#8217;s rummaging through another of<br \/>\nhis endless cache of duffel bags<br \/>\nfor the gym ensemble required<br \/>\nfor his PT test.<br \/>\nEvery second day<br \/>\nof every drill weekend,<br \/>\nhe dons this,<br \/>\nafter having intoned<br \/>\n&#8220;But I don&#8217;t want to play soldier today.&#8221;<br \/>\nYet, when he returns home tonight, exhausted,<br \/>\nhe&#8217;ll still make dinner for us<br \/>\nand I&#8217;ll clean up the chaos of his culinary creation.<\/p>\n<p>For every year of his life &#8211;<br \/>\never since his Korean-born mother stood a four-year old Ron at the kitchen stove<br \/>\nand instructed him to watch, Ron has been a cook more than anything else &#8211; soldier, student,  helicoptor pilot, behaviorist. <\/p>\n<p>He holds me close,<br \/>\nassures me,<br \/>\n&#8220;You got this,&#8221;<br \/>\nthen grabs his army backpack.<br \/>\nBefore trying to grab a few minutes sleep,<br \/>\nI pour a glass of cold water.<\/p>\n<p>We&#8217;re both tired this morning.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/RonForschen_kitchen.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/RonForschen_kitchen-300x169.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"169\" class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-42307\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/RonForschen_kitchen-300x169.jpg 300w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/RonForschen_kitchen-768x432.jpg 768w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/RonForschen_kitchen-1024x576.jpg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>It is just past five and I have woken up my boyfriend, who&#8217;s rummaging through another of his endless cache of duffel bags for the gym ensemble required for his PT test. Every second day of every drill weekend, he dons this, after having intoned&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":59,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-42258","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42258","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/59"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=42258"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42258\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":42349,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42258\/revisions\/42349"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=42258"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=42258"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=42258"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}