Was in the commissary, grocery shopping.
Early morning. Kids just dropped off at school. No better time to pick up a few items.
It's peaceful, this time of day. Store's nearly empty.
Musics' a bit louder over the P.A. in the morning...shelves being hurriedly stocked from midnight crew anxious for quitin' time.
I don't listen to country. Kinda blocked out most of what was playing during the country music countdown.
Then a male voice twanged. Deep. Russet. His opening line pulled me in. Made me stop my cart. Kinda tilt my head.
You see, my boy was in Iraq. And I had just mailed him a letter the previous day, wondering if he'd think my words/worry stupid.
Mom-ish, if you will.
And now this man was singing...and it was as if my boy were telling me from afar....it's okay, ma, you keep sending your letters...
My Dear Son, it is almost June,
I hope this letter catches up to you, and finds you well
Its been dry but they’re calling for rain,
And everything's the same ol’ same in Johnsonville
Your stubborn 'ol Daddy ain’t said too much,
But I’m sure you know he sends his love,
And she goes on,
In a letter from home
I hold it up and show my buddies,
Like we ain’t scared and our boots ain’t muddy, and they all laugh,
Like there’s something funny bout’ the way I talk,
When I say: "Mama sends her best y’all"
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,
Pick up my gun an' get back to work
An' it keeps me driving me on,
Waiting on letters from home...
Lyrics by John Michael Montgomery