The first concert I ever went to was to see Elton John. I wore a multi-colored striped t-shirt that I had made just to look extra hot and brought my camera with fresh flash bulbs because I had to capture the moment.
When Elton John came on-stage with his fancy glasses and strutted up to the piano, I seriously thought I was going to cry. I couldn’t believe I was at an Elton John concert and well on my way to being a full-fledged, independent woman at around 14 years old.
I also thought I was going to cry at an MC Hammer concert and not because of the guy’s funny pants. I happened to like MC Hammer at that time, thank you very much and I was a mother of two kids at the time and needed a night out with my husband. Let’s just blame that one on hormones.
Moments, events, concerts, parades move me. I get carried away and overwhelmed. There is an energy and excitement; it’s like something big is going to take place and I’m getting to be a part of it even if it’s as a dorky teenager or a mom. I can’t help myself.
Next week something very major is going to take place.
I’m going to see my son.
Sure, I’m going on a scooter with a broken foot and that wasn’t exactly what I anticipated but I’m going to see my son.
I haven’t seen my oldest OS since June 30th at West Point. Oh what an emotional day that was for me and thousands of other parents and well-wishers. I even have trouble recalling that day because of its intensity.
Even though I was completely ambulatory at that time, I confess it was nearly impossible to walk away from the place. I left part of my heart at the United States Military Academy.
Since June 30th, we’ve only talked with our son for a total of one hour in 6 1/2 weeks. We have received precious letters like manna from heaven but only 60 minutes total of slightly normal conversation. Not complaining but just saying, we have missed him dearly. Just the thought of seeing my child, hugging him, hearing his voice face to face beats any concert or performance I shall ever attend. Just the thought of connecting with Nathan again makes me want to weep with joy. I have ever experienced separation from any of my children for this long.
But in a week I get to see my son.
Like a very wonderful and talented singer once sang (and I was there so I should know), “can’t touch this!” Hammer time next Saturday!