My Son

My son. He’s a good man. He’s a Staff Sargent in the Air Force. He went into the Air Force right out of high school because he wanted to get married and knew it was the only way to support a wife right then. They started having kiddos and ended up with three of them. Their son is autistic. M developed many health problems. He’s decided to make the military a career. He’s got a lot on his plate for a 28 year old. Many of his friends are only just now getting married or are single. I would guess that many of them, even in these economic times, are living the good life, and still have disposable income. My son probably doesn’t remember what that is, if he ever knew. His life, in the military, is always uncertain. He could be uprooted and shipped off somewhere else to live and work or be deployed at any time. Depending on the area of the job, his family may or may not get to go with him. Needless to say, I’m proud of him. I’m proud of who he has grown up to be. Of the father and husband he is. Of the man he is.
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