Welcome Home, Matt

I first met him when he was 7.  It was my first Thanksgiving with Himself's family, and he was sitting next to me at the dinner table.  He was the youngest cousin, full of personality even then.  What I remember most about that night (about him, anyway) was that he had somehow gotten hold of a can of whipped cream and managed to spray about half of it into his mouth before his mom caught him.

Fast forward a few years.  His mother passed away unexpectedly, and complications from that event tore apart a good chunk of the extended family.   After a rough patch, his father managed to get him into a good private high school, where he did well.  But then he decided to enlist in the Army right after graduation against his dad's wishes, following in the footsteps of his three older half-brothers (two Army, one Marine.)  After Basic Training, he was shipped to Afghanistan for a full tour.

He got back home two days ago, thankfully in one piece.  The police force of his town sends someone to pick up every returning serviceman/woman at the local airport as a show of respect, and he was no exception.  The rest of his return was a little different, though.

His dad is a local judge, very tightly tied into the community.  His dad was so far beyond overjoyed about the safe return of his son that he organized a huge surprise welcome-home party .  150+ people in the ballroom of a local hotel.  Friends, neighbors, family down to the smallest kids, mine and others'.  A state senator.  A state representative.  The mayor of the town.  And not one person spilled the beans.

Kid got off the plane.  Cops and his dad picked him up.  They said there was a police benefit dinner that night, and would he please stop by quickly and say a few words.  He walked into the room to a standing ovation.

   
The politicos said a few words, but they were short and sweet.  Then he took the microphone.  It's hard for me to remember that he's grown up now.  He's 20, and much more man than the boy I first met.  But his presence when talking to an unexpected crowd was really something to see.  He thanked everyone for coming, then commented on how lucky he was: that some of his friends, friends who he felt were the real heroes, would come back to nothing special, certainly nothing like that huge celebration, and that some wouldn't come back at all.  In his eyes, he's just doing his job.

He'll be at my house for Christmas.  He and his dad come every year.  A smaller, quieter "welcome home" than last night's, but no less heartfelt. We're proud of you, kid.