Mom

Dear Mom,

“Firefighting just makes me so alive… so that I can give more to you guys. Someday you’ll understand.” That’s what you wrote to Luke and I on the back of the picture on the bottom. Sometimes I feel like I’ve lived so much life and have grown up so much that I should understand things like this already, but as I stood by the printer trying to figure out what you meant, I realized how much left there is to learn from you. It occurred to me that maybe I’m not meant to understand that yet. 

It was a strange revelation for me… I’m able to comprehend a lot of things. I mean, I could certainly make theories up for what that statement really meant for you, but it’s not yet something that I can truly understand, and that was an odd feeling for me. 

Based on the picture below your confidently smiling face, Luke and I were able to catch a fractured glimpse of what you want us to eventually appreciate. His face isn’t visible, but based on the look on mine, I’m guessing it’s one of joy. Maybe even at that young age we saw the metaphorical fire that you gained from being a firefighter and reveled in it.

I still remember the first fire call you ever got. I must’ve been less than five years old but I can still picture your nervously excited smile, and can vividly see you putting on your heavy yellow gear and walking out through the porch. You were practically peeing your pants you were so anxious. 

You’ve been to countless fires now, and even more false alarms at the college. I can tell it’s not the same for you anymore. It’s old news, but you haven’t lost that spark entirely. I could tell when that tree blew down at the bottom of our driveway last week and you had us rush out to the garage to get your yellow vests so we could do traffic control. You were so prepared, not only with your equipment but with your ability to sanely control the situation. It may not give you the same excitement that it once did, but from what I could tell it gives you a purpose and makes you happy. 

I can only hope that someday I’ll find something that gives me the same sense of accomplishment that firefighting gives to you. I think that there are some people who never find that kind of gratifying purpose and I feel fortunate to have a mom who did. That way, I know not to settle for less. 

Love you mom.

Hannah