I grew up as an Air Force brat, did you know that? I was born in the friendly part of the middle east and lived in five different places before my dad finally retired.
It is hard you know, being a military kid. I have all the standard complaints that everyone does...losing friends soon after making them, not knowing when you parent is supposed to arrive home after a TDY or deployment and spending agonizing hours every 1st and the 15th at the commissary. I was super excited when my parents started sending us to the Youth Center on base and the commissary trips at least for two of the three kids became non existent.
Another part that I don't really hear a lot about but happened in my family was my dad was a mystery to me. My earliest memories were of us stationed in Florida and him either coming home or leaving to go somewhere shortly after coming home. I am sure it was longer than I remember since kids have such poor perception of time. Dad did try and make coming home a nice event though for my brother and me. He brought home money from other countries that we made serious fun of, perfume or gold for my mom and some sort of local treasure that gave us clues to where he might of been. You see my dad's career field was "communications." He went places for months that we were not allowed to know about, and guys, this was before email, cell phones and Skype. We would go weeks sometimes even a month before we heard from him. I can only imagine how pleased my mother was at that idea.
Back to the mystery that is my dad, or our parents in general. I noticed that as I got older and had children of my own my dad would start to let things slip. Little things, about how he once bought land in his home state with the hope that he could move back there to live near his mom again. My grandma had already passed when he made this comment and I happened to hear it and his final statement was "but we sold it, my mom isn't there anymore." I knew how devoted my dad was to his mother but had no clue that was why he bought land, that was his eventual dream. Another time whilst standing next to my dad in church we sang this song about the walls of Jericho falling down and my dad had tears streaming down from his eyes. In my parents house I know the rules about crying, you keep it to yourself and don't question why someone else is doing it. Emotions are not to be talked about. I asked my dad a few weeks later if he had "ever heard of" the song and he quietly and quickly said he remembered singing that with his mom and dad growing up.
My mom is not so much a mystery, she lets everyone know what she thinks/feels/cares about any topic at any given time. Her life before my dad remains a mystery to me, even when I asked my mothers side of the family questions about her they remain vague and noncommittal as if some unspoken agreement with my mom was in place.
It is amazing to me how much we think we can know someone inside and out, there are still parts of them kept shielded from us, especially as children. I think it's OK that we don't know everything about our parents. Lord knows I don't want them to know every little thing about me. Having personal events and thoughts that I never knew about and only slowly find out about make my parents a little more human to me and less...parental.
Until next time, pass the sugar.
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