Published: June 16, 2008 03:10 pm            

Welcome home

I had no idea how I would spot him.  There were more than 5,000 young men and women crammed along the rails of the giant ship – all eager for that first look at loved ones they left behind seven months ago.

My son, the sailor, was on the deck of the USS Harry S. Truman as it made the turn into the pier at Norfolk, Va., on the morning of June 4. He and the others had been backing up the troops serving in the Persian Gulf.

We had been in touch frequently during those months – most often by e-mail. But I missed hearing his voice, and I had worried about him.

But now he was home.

I stood on the dock an hour or more – watching the spot on the horizon grow larger as the giant aircraft carrier moved closer and closer to shore.

Eventually I could see the tiny white figures on the ship.

When they had pulled out in early November, the men and women “lining the rails” were in perfect formation and stood at attention for as long as you could see the ship.

But this day was different.

There was no formation and the sailors were not standing at attention. Instead they stood along every available inch of railing – most waving flags and shouting to the 20,000 or so watching their return.

The mood on the pier was very different as well.

There hadn’t been a lot of noise the day they left.

Occasionally you would hear a “Goodbye!” or an “I’ll write you every day.” But mostly it was sniffles and sobs filling the silence left as the giant ship was pulled away by the colorful tugs.

There were tears at the homecoming as well. But they were different, of course. They were happy tears and tears of relief.

And for me, they also were tears of pride. Pride to be an American – and pride in my young son.

I had made a sign the week before. “Welcome home Chad” it said in big yellow letters against a blue background. I added a star and a stripe just to make it stand out a bit more.

I found a spot on the dock where I thought I would have the most visibility – a concrete piling, right next to the band.

I crawled up on it and held my sign up over my head for what seemed like hours.

Chad is not a showy person and I briefly wondered if my big sign would embarrass him.

But I didn’t care. I wanted him to know I was there and that I was thrilled to see him.

As soon as it became possible to distinguish faces, I was looking for the only one I cared to see.

And then I thought I spotted him! But from that distance, I wasn’t quite sure. I waved tentatively. The sailor waved back.

Still not sure, I gave the thumbs up sign. He returned it, and I knew I had found my son!

After what seemed like a long time, he came down the brow. I had a hug I’d saved for him for seven months! Later, we talked about the experience.

“For seven whole months that is all you think about – getting home,” he said.

He’d been to places I’ve only dreamed about – Naples, Rome, Paris, Dubai ... .

But I am pretty sure no place looked any better than that Norfolk wharf – packed with strangers and one lady standing on a piling holding a big, blue sign!

        

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