Going to the grocery store has a whole new meaning. She doesn't buy her son's favorite cereal and milk. Instead she looks for things that store easily, stay fresh for a long time and might have some semblance of nutrition. She wonders if his favorite although weird snack, ranch dressing and tuna fish, might be running low. So she picks up a small bottle and some of the new foil packages of tuna. There is a special spot in the dining room where she stores goodies for him to send out in the next box. When she goes to the post office, only the postal workers know why she is there. Everyone else is there for normal postal needs like stamps, returning a book they don't want or picking up their mail they received while on vacation.

She wishes she could share with them how special this box is because she made her son a special iron-on on the computer for a T-shirt that is just for him. She wonders if her son ever notices the snowman stamps that she saved from last winter just to put on his letters.

In the beginning, her ribbon used to elicit comments and thank yous. Now it seems to go unnoticed. Her co-workers and friends used to ask if she has heard from her son, but interests have waned and the answer seems to be the same anyways, not lately or nothing really new.

She remembers when he was home. She thinks of how excited he was to get his car and how nice it is and suits him so well. She remembers worrying about him driving too fast with the radio blasting and reminding him to be safe and to drive defensively. Now she worries about him driving on roads that aren't safe even without any traffic. She remembers what a sweet boy he was and how he always liked babies and children smaller than him. Now she worries if he has seen children hurt or living in terrible conditions.

But she can't let these things get to her or dwell on them for long because she has another child at home who needs her attention. It's her first year in high school and things are so exciting for her. There is marching band practice and preparation for performances and competitions. She has tests to take and drills to learn. Her 16th birthday came and went and all she wanted was a phone call from her brother. She got flowers instead and declared them the best birthday present she had ever received.

No one has any idea how hard it is for her to play the national anthem at the beginning of the home football games. Luckily for her band mates, the director insists they stand at attention without fidgeting when they are the visiting team. Her wrath at anyone even suspected of being un-patriotic is well known among her friends. Her brother is her hero.

This mom was lucky enough to be able to be present when the company reported for deployment, most weren't. It took the whole day, what with packing and cleaning up the rooms in the barracks, having them inspected and cleared. Then there was more waiting as the bags were loaded and soldiers were accounted for. Pictures were taken and stories were told in the same way these things happen at most family gatherings.

When the weapons were issued, it was the first time this mom had seen a gun in her son's hands. But, she gritted her teeth and pasted the smile on her face and silently reaffirmed the vow to herself that she would not cry in front of her kids.

She remembered the first time she saw her son in his uniform at his basic training graduation just a few months earlier and how grown up he looked. She was desperately trying to forget that the young son she was about to put on the bus would not be the same grown man that would come home.

When the order came to form up at the gym, she felt her resolve and strength start to give way. But, when she looked in his eyes, she saw he needed her one more time to be strong and confident while he got on the bus. She was. He gave her a picture perfect smile and an OK sign as he stepped into the doorway.

As he found his seat, he looked out the tinted windows and mouthed the words, "I'll write soon, I love you, mom" and waved goodbye. She waved back and said the same and turned to the parking lot, looking for the privacy of her car.

If there were tears, no one saw them but her husband. If there were sobs, those sounds were muffled by his strong arms around her.

As the clock begins to tick toward the day her soldier son returns, a mother remembers how fast the time has already passed. Wasn't it only last month he was saying his first words? And just last week he was bursting through the door with excitement to share the news of his latest accomplishment at school. And surely it was only a few days ago that he was learning to drive.

So she consoles herself that in a lot less time he will be back in her living room, leaving his shoes in the middle of the floor, not rinsing out his milk glass or calling to say he can't come to visit next weekend because he has plans with his buddies.

This is what it means to be the mother of a soldier.

Author Unkown