Last Monday, Sept. 20th, I flew to Palm Springs - just the first stop to my final destination of 29 Palms, California. The much anticipated and long awaited reunion was finally happening. It was my first trip alone, a small but mighty welcome home committee. Since this was the return of my sons second deployment and our second “reunion”, I was prepared for the hotel check-in, meeting the anxious and excited parents and families, getting my security pass to get on base, camera in hand, and posters to make those “welcome home” signs.

Buses filled with weary and excited Marines had already arrived. Families had come and gone and new families had arrived to continue the wait for our courageously brave Marines. And, for all of us prayers had been answered.

Celebrations were happening. Parents from platoons gathered in the hotel commons and together made signs and nametags and shared stories about their Marines. The excitement was intoxicating. I sat watching as this “family” grew as more parents arrived and information flowed in as to the estimated arrival time. Here we were just hours away from having our children home. Prayers had been answered.

By midnight another group of buses had delivered to waiting families another company of Marines. And, the “hot-line” message had changed. Weapons Co. was due to land at 3:30 am. By 7:30 am several hundred parents, children, sisters, brother, aunts and uncles, wives and grandparents anxiously waited with signs, banners, balloons and cameras. The Marine band played as we were notified that the buses were now on base. Again, we waited and just with the knowledge that these Marines were so close the tears began to flow. It wasn’t long before those big white buses were heard and seen. As they approached the staging area, screams and shouting was the only thing to be heard.

It was Tuesday morning, Sept. 21st when Bill, my son, stepped off that bus. I immediately saw him, even in the sea of desert khaki, and without hesitation I made my way to him. He heard my voice as I called his name before he saw me. And, like most moms, my emotions took over and nothing was getting between me and my “mission” to hug my son. My prayers have been answered.