From Army to Mommy: My Story Part I
Comments (2) I’m not sure when it all started. Was it the first time I wore Army boots? I was nine, I think, slipping my pink and white striped socks into my dad’s spit-shined pair of black boots. We stood next to the ironing board as he pressed his uniform for weekend drill and showed me how to salute. ”Elbow up and tuck that thumb. Good. Now tilt your hand towards the ground.” I held my arm stiff as he inspected.
Almost ten years later, I grabbed a ROTC (Reserve Officer Training Corps) brochure by chance on my way out of a college fair in Boise, Idaho. I didn’t really think I’d follow through with the application. I confidently assured myself midway through senior year that with a top placement in my sixty-student class and my winning personality, I would be turning down scholarships. Reality set in as I received multiple “thank you” letters explaining I did NOT receive a scholarship for my submissions. It was about this time my parents first financially positive year in real estate coincided with my application for aid. What luck!
I panicked in March of 1997. Graduation loomed and I’d won just enough scholarship money to cover buying books for a semester. I pulled the crumpled ROTC brochure from a bag and applied only days before their deadline. I wish I could say it was my patriotic spirit and willingness to serve that inspired me to apply for ROTC. I can envision myself humming “Yankee Doodle Dandee” as I marched to the mailbox and sent off my packet. Yes, I tear up every time the national anthem is played and love this country, but my first few steps to joining the military were in desperation. I gave myself two options. Spend my college years sharing a room with my sister or use a ROTC scholarship to live on my own. It didn’t take long before I received my answer. Accepted! I completed a physical fitness test (still not sure how a shuttle run and throwing a basketball while kneeling proved I was physically ready for the military) and applied my ROTC scholarship to a private liberal arts college in Spokane, Washington.
After celebrating with my family, I discussed my plans with my high school sweetheart, Mr. Hometown. He was the captain of the basketball team and we were voted most likely Mr. and Mrs.. Although we’d only officially started dating the beginning of our senior year, we were desperately in love. We’d discussed where we would live and knew how many kids we would have. He debated between a college in Oregon and the school I wanted to attend in Washington. I begged him to go to school with me. How could we possibly be apart? I was thrilled when he finally decided we would go to the same college.
To be continued…
Themocracy