Mason and I

Mason and I

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Day 39 of North Carolina

I'm sitting in my living room, listening to an old Coca Cola clock tick. It ticks fast enough to let me know my day is almost over. But it ticks slow enough for me to continue to wait until Mason is home.

Let's tick back in time to September 16, 2012. It was a Sunday. I woke up beside Mason. We all knew what had to come of that day, yet we didn't act upon it. We acted like it was just another day in the year. Some tears were shed before Mason left to the Marine core building where his first minor training had began. But we, Moira, Mason and I, stayed strong for each other. 

Moira and I set off a flare, though it was a total failure, in celebration on Mason becoming a Marine. That one moment was a release; the adrenaline pumping through our veins as a hot flare danced among our feet until sliding under the house. We coughed and choked and laughed in the smoke. I walked inside after Moira had hosed down the whole area. I saw Mason. He wasn't smiling like we were. My smile faded quickly afterwards.

Ticking back to September 15, Saturday. I vaguely remember that day. Mason and I tried to stay positive, but we knew everyone in the house was mourning deep down. I almost tried to numb it out - I tried accepting Mason's departure and life in the military on that one night. It was agonizing. I still don't accept his military lifestyle but... it is what it is. I must accept it. It's ludicrous not to. 

I've never been a fan of the military. I respect them, but I shall forever stay away from it. I guess avoiding goes too far. I can't avoid Mason since he chose a path which will do greatly on our future. However, I have a passionate dislike for war... I'm blessed Mason doesn't want to do combat. 

Forwarding time to September 16. The hour is nigh. Mason had finished packing. His mother cried as Mason hugged her securely. I bowed my head, hiding my face under the bill of my hat, trying not to let them see my pained expression. 

I warmed up my car. I took a hold of Mason's hand and drove him to his destination. He sulked in the passenger side seat while I cooed to him, keeping my tears under my eyelids. 

I remember how beautiful that day was; sunny with blue skies. I felt like the world was taunting me on such a depressing day... Or, was it helping me ease my sadness?

When we got to the Marine core building, I let my emotions go. I embraced Mason like never before. He embraced me the same. We buried our faces into each other's shoulders, bawling and not caring who all saw. We kissed, we hugged, we praised one another for being so strong... then the actual goodbye had to come. Mason took off the special key necklace, the one that symbolizes the key to my heart, and he kissed it before handing it to me. I clutched it in a tight fist. I feared the day he would give me back that necklace. I wanted him to keep it but he couldn't. Boot camp wouldn't allow it.

The image that'll always be burned into my memory is when I had to drive away. Mason stood on the curb of the building's walkway and watched me blow him kisses and shape a heart using my fingers. I wanted to jump out of the car and hold him one last time, yet I knew I wouldn't let go then. 

I forced myself to look away. I forced myself to put the car in drive and pull into the road. I didn't want to do it - to leave him there - but I had to. I cried all the way home. 

September 17, Monday. Dad's and grandma's birthday. My parents and my two grandmas went to the Puyallup fair. I stayed home. I skipped school, too. I was a mighty big wreck. 

I sat alone in my house thinking about Mason; thinking about why I couldn't be with him that day, at the fair, having fun. 

Every couple of mornings following the 17th, I woke up crying. It felt as if someone stole my soul. I felt empty. I felt dead. Yet I carried on. I carried on for 360 days. And I'm still countin'. 

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Shout out to my dad and my grandma on their birthday's today. I love you guys. Thank you for all the years you've been taking care of me - through the thick and thin.


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