Not every long weekend is wonderful but this one was.
With that in mind, please indulge my oozing joy and satisfaction while I jot down a few details from the last few days…details I don't want to forget.
My nephew, fresh out of high school, left in November for Parris Island, South Carolina.
You know the place?
As far as I know, they only make one thing on Parris Island.
At a bright and early, well actually, it was a dark and early, 5:55 a.m. Thursday morning, we, with a bunch of other families, were lining the street at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, posters in hand, freezing our rears off, ready to cheer on our new Marine at the much anticipated Motivational Run. (aka the moto run)
It was pitch black dark.
I saw a Drill Instructor with some poor recruit outside a barracks.
The DI was making him run about 10 yards, touch the ground only to turn around and run the same 10 yards back. It was the shortest, most obnoxious distance.
"Go back!" the DI yelled.
"Now back!"
This went on as long as I watched.
There were multiple groups of recruits everywhere you turned in formation marching, running, sweating, getting yelled at long before the sun was up.
All these soldiers or soldiers in training were up way before I was,
working, learning, drilling, training, and sacrificing...
preparing themselves to, when needed, protect you and me and the country we call home.
I looked to my right, where I saw the huge
"WE MAKE MARINES" sign high overhead that spanned the width of the road.
I looked to my left where I saw my parents, bundled up, signs in hand, anxiously waiting to catch a glimpse of their grandson, the new marine.
You could see the pride all over my Dad's face.
He is a former Marine himself and was trained on the very ground on which we were standing back quite a few years ago.
That was it for me.
I started crying like a baby.
It was a bit much to absorb…in the best sort of way.
Then we heard them.
We heard them way before we could see them.
It was an excited rumble of feet pounding the ground, of cadences and synchronized yelling.
All their blood, sweat, and bruises over the last 13 weeks had brought them to these two days of celebration and graduation.
Finally.
Wish you could have been there to hear it and see it.
It was awesome…sights and sounds not easily forgotten.
Hangin' On Every Word
Touring the barracks.
Looking at his squared away rack and foot locker.
Get on the footprints, and bang on the wall handprint if you have anything to say or ask the Drill Instructor.
This routine hasn't changed in 40+ years.
The infamous yellow footprints at receiving.
The first time you put your recruit feet on the island,
it's on these. I think one time on those was enough for
Jonathan. He had no intentions of stepping on them again!
To quote him, "I don't think I should stand on those again,
but I'll stand between them for a picture."
Graduation Day~February 12, 2016
The shorter, shaggy haired one thinks the taller, shaved one pretty much hung the moon.
Brad, true to form, had just said, as he squatted down close to Jonathan's really shiny shoe,
"Hold up, Jonathan, I think I have something in my teeth….let me use your shoe to look"
All in all, the best couple days I've had in a while.
My heart could have exploded several times.
My kids, right down to my 6 year old, didn't complain about
the late nights, early mornings, standing in line, waiting,
watching, cheering, freezing, or endless walking.
I was an extra proud Mama.
Kids being selfless is a sweet sight to behold.
Oh and I realize this post is a slight picture overload.
If you feel like you've seen enough Marines for the day,
don't worry.
You're not likely to see one again right away.
There aren't many of them.
They are the few, the proud.
~stacey
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