Thursday, March 7, 2013

He's Your Marine. He's My Brother.


I've been in California now for a full 24 hours. 

I can sum it up entirely with just one picture. 

Seriously. Everyone. 
Today is the day.

I'm sitting here watching The Missus—who took the easy way out and flew in last night—get ready, and all I can think about is today. 

The day I get to see Josh for the first time in three months. 

The day when I see him in his boot camp outfit, or whatever it is. 

The day I see him march. Yell "Yes sir!" at the top of his lungs. Stand at attention, parade rest, all that stuff. Hug mom. I get to see how much weight he's lost, how short his hair is, and how he stands taller and with more pride. 

The day I see him grown up. 

I'm not afraid I won't recognize him. I'm not afraid he won't smile and laugh when he sees us, and I know for a fact he won't cry when he hugs mom or his girlfriend. That'll be my job, just like now. 

I wish to hell my dad could be here to see this. 

I'm going to do my best to hold it together and get some pictures of him doing his Marine thing. Then they give us something called "Family Day." 

I am petrified of accidentally walking on the parade deck. 
One thing keeps running through my mind after reading that.

"Your Marine." 

My Marine. 

Bullcrap. 

It's My Brother. They will never take that title from him.