As I promised, here is the essay that I wrote for my composition class last week. I wanted to wait until the grade was posted before I put it here. I got 84/ 100 points. I didn't know that a title page was required, and the instructor said I didn't explain enough of the concepts that were unfamiliar to readers. She said I included good descriptions and feelings, but a lot was left open, like "underway" . . . um, if it's an essay about an experience in the Navy, do I really have to explain what underway means?
Oh, well. I'm still proud of it. I almost wish it could have been a longer essay. There was so much more that day. The channel fever, for one. My dad and sister were there with as Tigers, and we had to search the pier for my mom and my aunt. There was another search to find my ex and my boys. They were tired and cranky, as was my ex, but there aren't enough words to finish explaining how it felt to see them after six months. Maybe I didn't pick the right topic. I wanted to write about something that would allow me to introduce myself to the class and the instructor, and something I didn't have to research or think about to hard. I know this because I felt it. I lived it.
All right, that's it. Enough intro. Here it is:
Sights, Sounds, and Feelings of Homecoming
Generally speaking, sailors don't like dress whites. I actually hated them. The dress whites are hard to iron, uncomfortable, and don't stay clean for more than five minutes. But there is one occasion that I didn't think about arguing even once. I was happy to wear my dress whites for my first homecoming.
Underway, I avoided being outside. It was depressing to go out and see nothing but open ocean all around. This day was different. When we sneaked a look, we could see land. We weren't quite there yet, but we knew that it was home. When it was time, I dressed in my whites. They were clean and pressed. My neckerchief was rolled and tied. My dress shoes were shined. It was an inspection ready uniform, but I wasn't going to an inspection. After six long months, this was the best birthday present that a mother could receive.
The USS Ronald Reagan can reach speeds over 35 miles an hour. Standing in formation, waiting anxiously to get home, we believed that the ship could not go any slower. The wait was nearly agonizing as we stood there straining to watch the base come in to view. There were hundreds of sailors in a line around the flight deck, and each of the upper island decks. As we stood, waited, and watched, music was played over a sound system.
Patriotic music could have been played, but someone decided against it. Instead, songs were played to make us think of what we were headed to. There were songs to pump up the sailors waiting to get home. I remember
California, Here I Come. Some of the songs got us excited, and some of them were emotional. I had never heard
Mom, I'm Coming Home before. When it was played, I listened. So did those around me. I had been determined not to cry, but there were the tears in my eyes. It had been a long six months, but I had made it. I was proud of myself, and I knew that my mom, who was waiting somewhere on that base, was proud of me, too.
To this day, I get chills thinking about that feeling. It swells inside me like the crescendo of an orchestra. Finally, we were there. We could see the crowd, hear them screaming. There were signs, balloons, flags, and so much love I could feel it. The music had stopped. The sailors were all still and silent. I had thought the crowd couldn't get any louder, but I was wrong. A single shot rand out. A shot that everyone heard which meant that we were really home. That shot sent the first line to the pier to moor the ship. Once it had been secured, the whistle was sounded. Cheers rang out from the crowd and the sailors on the flight deck.
It seemed to take hours to tie up the ship, but I know there was much more that had to be done. Finally, a liberty call was sounded with personnel being allowed to leave the ship in order of rank. The time waiting became a blur. I don't remember hearing the call. I know I carried more than one bag with me, but I don't remember it. The walk down the stairwell is a long one, and scary when you're not empty handed. I don't remember it, either. I barely remember walking through the crowd to find my mom. It became a blur. Somehow, she was there.
And then, so were my children. I had not seen them in six months. A fear of every parent who is in the military is coming home to a child that does not recognize them. I had longed to hold and smell my children for six months while also fearing that at the ages of one and two, they would not know me. When at last they were in front of me, I felt a joy that no one outside the military can understand. They were warm and sticky and both of them smelled like heat and baby wipes. They were fussy from being in the sun without being able to play, eat, or nap. None of that mattered to me. My ex-husband was annoyed, but I thought that their whines had never sounded more beautiful.
The day went on. There was a celebratory dinner and lots of storytelling. I was on leave and I relaxed for a few days. Those days are a blur. What I remember, and will never forget, are the feelings of anticipation, excitement, pride, and joy.
I have been out of the Navy for two and a half years. I do miss the pride of being a sailor, but I am now a proud veteran. With the exception of a few sleepovers, I have been with my children every night for the last two and a half years. I enjoyed being underway, but that was doing my job. There was nothing harder than leaving my children to go, and whether it was two days, two weeks, or six months, there has never been anything better than coming home.
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So, that was it. Please, let me know what you think.
For now, I'm out.
Peace, quiet, and bed!
