In the car it continued as my son began to fall asleep. My wife was in the back seat trying to feed him, soothe him, comfort him, and love on him. Why? Because she is a warrior mom, the sentry to our young son. We exchanged looks in the rearview mirror. We were communicating like cave-people with expressions, with clicks, and with grunts. Through our non-verbal and Neanderthal communication, we decided to pull into a Philly Cheesesteak Place that we had never been to, have a #6 and a #15, and eat in the parking lot. We got that done and afterwards we did some grocery shopping. Same circumstances, but we were war-weary by now. I kept thinking the whole time how amazing a mom she is. She keeps us glued. Nothing gets close to my son without going through her. I feel safer when she is around. I feel like a better father when she is around. It made so much sense to me later when I came across her boots, stationed at our son’s door. She is the sentry to our son’s life.
As I thought more about this, I came to realize that I’ve seen these very boots stationed outside the bedroom doors of each of her stepchildren. I am emotional writing this. I have seen her boots stationed by our front door as well. I’ve seen these house boots outside of our dog’s room, the laundry room, the garage, the kitchen, the living room. Wiping my eyes now as I realize that the last time I cursed these boots was when I tripped over them as they sat next to our bed… on my side.
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This piece originally appeared at Jeremyjlanning.com, published with permission.
