He left the airport on the 5th, early in the morning, headed to the midwest. He arrived just before noon, and I know this because he sent a text saying "the eagle has landed" as they were taxi-ing off the runway. How fun. He said he would and he did! This of course is 2 hours ahead of California time. The next I heard about anything, I had texted the mom of another recruit (with whom I had shared info at the MEPS because her son was going at the same time and was also scheduled to be a Nuke) and she had been texting back and forth with her son all day. I wondered how that was possible, but she said that they were detained at the airport for quite some time... more than 9 hours to be more accurate! She also said that they had been able to eat twice since arrival to the Chicago airport. Although I was happy to have more information, I was a bit sad because I hadn't heard anything from Dakota while he was waiting at the airport.
The next thing I know, I received a call at 8:51 and it was him. This was "the call" that everyone talks about...where there is a somewhat scripted 20-30 second phone call telling you that "I am here. I am safe. You will be receiving a box in a few days with my stuff in it, and about a week later you will receive a letter. I will be able to call again in about 3 weeks. I love you."
All accounts I had read or been told, suggested that this would be very formal and hurried, and that there will really be no time to even respond with an "I love you" to your SR (sailor recruit).
The call I received, however, was wonderful. It was not frantic, rushed, hectic, or formal. Dakota sounded very relaxed, happy, and rested. He didn't sound anxious or worried, and to my great relief, he didn't sound tired at all and there was no strain whatsoever in his voice! I even got to tell him, "awh, Dakota. I love you too, I am so happy to get your call. Hang in there, you can DO this, I believe in you and I am so proud of you! I love you!" His response was a small chorkle and a "love you too, mom." Then we said goodbye.
So as I began to manage mixed emotional feelings over the next few days, I became more and more worried about this box, which the NavyforMoms website lovingly refers to as the "kid in the box." I know that he had said he would be mailing it to his dad's address, which caused even more worry. His dad hasn't communicated with me for almost 2 years. I grew fearful that I would not be informed upon the box's arrival, and that I wouldn't get the chance to do what all of the other Navy moms had said they have done. They chose to keep "the box" to use as a Navy keepsake box, storing all of the Navy memorabilia throughout their child's service. I told Madison about it, and asked for her help in notifying me when it arrives at their dad's house. I even sent an email to dad and stepmom requesting that they let me know when the box and when the letter arrive. I heard nothing back.
I asked Madison on Saturday, then again on Monday, and I forgot to ask on Tuesday but remembered on Wednesday, and she said that it had come on Tuesday. I asked if I would be able to get the box somehow, and she said she had to argue for a while with her dad about it, but finally convinced him to just give in to spare a greater fight than was necessary, all for a stupid box with Dakota's stuff in it.
Keep in mind, that Dakota has lived solely with me for the past 9 months, and upon return from college with his dad, they had brought all of his belongings and plopped them in my garage, at my house. Why would his things not be kept all together? Anyway, I begged Madison to bring it over to my house and today (Thursday) she did.
There it was. The box. Opening the already-opened box, I explored its contents with a bit of longing, thinking it would give me some kind of glimpse into how he was doing, what he was doing, how he is feeling, or how he was feeling at the time he packed his things in this highly anticipated box. Quite uneventfully, it really was just full of his stuff. The shirt, jeans, tennis shoes and hoodie jacket he had worn to MEPS, along with his tiny Navy backpack containing his cell phone, charger, and Navy paperwork. No undies (thank goodness) and no socks (good riddance! There was a giant hole in them anyway). It did smell like Dakota though, when I opened it. Not bad, not good, just Dakota. It made me miss him again but at least no tears were shed this time!
What was it about this "grand" box? It was certainly nothing special to look at... not to the naked eye. It was more about the feeling of the box, and what it represents. The meaning is drawn from the fact that it came from my son, who has now officially left the nest, and it was packed immediately upon his arrival into the next step--this new journey in his life--in the Navy.
So now I await the letter. This is a standard Navy Boot Camp form letter, with a few different spaces lined out for "fill-in-the-blank" completion by the SR. This letter is VERY important, as it provides information about Dakota's Ship and Division, his mailing address, his graduation date (PIR aka pass in review), the password for attending his graduation and downloading the parking pass, and all of the instructions regarding the PIR ceremony. I am terrified that his dad will not share this information with me, and do not know what in the world I will do if that becomes the case. Vigilantly prayerful, I continue to wait, as patiently as I can.
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