How Do You Mother a Soldier?
You hold him close, let him go, and offer what little you still can.
The first day of the war was a blur of disbelief. It was a day when no mother quite knew how to act, whether to pack food or pack emotion, whether to hug tightly or let go quickly. When my son answered the emergency call-up on that awful day, I gave him what I had: my love, my prayers, and a lunch bag full of tuna fish sandwiches.
600 days later, I know more.
I know what it means when people in the neighborhood lower their voice before mentioning a name. I know the art of scanning the news not for headlines, but for hints. And I know that my son, the one who I can no longer protect, now also knows too much.
He knows what war means.
On Memorial Day, he visits his friends’ graves in the morning and their parents’ homes in the afternoon. He is torn apart when his two-year-old says, “Abba, when you are gone, I’m sad. I cry, and water comes out of my eyes.”
What can you give a son who is going back into the reserves yet again?
I can’t give him a kiss to make it all better; when he was young he believed in the magic powers of a kiss, but no longer.
I can’t give him peace; we’ve been trying that since October. Are we any closer?
I can’t give him rest; that’s something he left behind on the first day, along with his wife and young children.
But I can give him a tube of hand cream.
A ridiculous gift.
It’s a small thing. But sometimes, small things are the only things we have left to give.
Hand cream softens what has grown rough. It smooths over skin that has been rubbed raw by friction, exposure, and overuse. It seeps in quietly, unnoticed, until the cracks close and the burning fades. It doesn’t heal the wound, but it allows healing to begin.
It’s not armor. It’s care.
This war has roughened all of us. We’ve all been chafed by reality, by worry, by the unbearable weight of names turned into memorials.
So, I’ll give him hand cream.
Hand cream, because I have no idea how to soften the world, but I can at least help to soften his hands.
