Letters to My Son Day 3

I've heard it said that writing is a muscle, and exercise is key to success. As it happens, I'm pretty terrible at settling into a physical exercise routine, too. Be that as it may, today is a new day, and it's not the fall that's important, it's the recovery. So I'm trying to figure out a schedule that I'll naturally follow and then inserting "triggers" to Pavlov myself into being a better me. For example, I always take my blood pressure pill in the morning with my coffee because I NEVER forget coffee. I've done that long enough now that the very act of caffeinating myself in the morning also reminds me to take my pill.

I'm also still deciding on the best time to write. Do I wait until the end of the day so I can fill you in on anything that might have happened? Or do I start first thing in the morning when it's quiet and I'm fresh from sleep? Both options have their appeal. I suppose I could have a "finish by" time and then just fit in the writing time however it works best for that particular day. Since I started this one late in the day, going forward I'll see how a 9 p.m. posting deadline works for me.

As I imagine what it might be like for you there on base the day after Thanksgiving in battalion reception purgatory, the only experience I have that comes close was pilot training for my first freight job. The company put candidates up in shared apartments near the airport, and we trained overnight from 8:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. You have never been so tired as memorizing federal aviation regulations and standard operating procedures at two in the morning tired, trust me. It was a completely different living arrangement with strangers, learning new things, on a new circadian rhythm, in a high stress environment. It was possible to fail out of training and we lost about half the class by the end.

It didn't go smoothly. During my first actual flight in the airplane, I was so nervous that I overcontrolled the pitch enough to make at least one person in the back airsick. I had also misunderstood the instructions for that flight and wasn't as prepared as I should have been, putting us at least an hour behind schedule. During transition training—basically just a quick flight in a different model light twin from the training aircraft to check your proficiency in it—I had messed up so badly (still not sure what I did) that I had to spend an extra day in Ohio to retake the flight with a different instructor.

But through all that shared misery, I made some great friends and had some fantastic adventures. That's what I'm imagining for you, too. A new beginning with adventure on the horizon once you can get past this waiting game in battalion reception. Before you know it, boot camp will start in earnest, and you'll miss the waiting.

Nothing really to report on the home front. You know we aren't Black Friday shoppers, so we hung out inside all day grazing on leftovers. I watched "Wednesday" on Netflix, your sister played video games in her room, and your dad tried to rehang the closet doors in your room. After briefly playing WWMSD (what would my son do) this afternoon, I took a nap. That was nice.

As you move into this new phase of your life, I'm looking forward to meeting the man you will become, and I'm inspired by your commitment. I will keep writing and following along with your training as best I can. I will add walking, weight training, and yoga to my daily activities on Monday. It won't be the same level of fitness activity that you'll be doing, but I'm also more than twice your age. I'll start there and then we can compare notes over the holiday.

It's getting late and I need to get this posted, so I'll leave you here. Maybe tomorrow's letter will be a story. Who knows?

All my love,

Mom