"Ohhhh. Oh, fuck."
Eyes on him the whole ceremony, and as soon as it was over, everyone filed down the bleachers to find their sailors, waiting and walking on the stairs and pathways like good boys and girls. I stomped down the seats in my big fucking doc martens and was the first one bawling into my little brother's shoulder.
A brief moment, then he left again, then a longer moment that still felt too brief. We got him for six hours or so last night; sat down, talked, grabbed pizza, talked, played in the snow, talked, then dropped him back at the base.
Caught him this morning at the airport where he shipped out, to our backyard more or less--he'll only be an hour and a half away at school for a year. A whole year of calls and emails and weekend visits, thank god, because the two months without him were brutal.
I got the "I'm a sailor" call first, I got the first call when he had free time, I got the first hug, I got the first text off the plane. As of right this second, I'm still the only one that's talked to him since we've all landed. Stupid, but I take pride in it.
It's all cake from here.