It doesn’t take long, once our collective Midshipmen cross the threshold of an otherwise “at ease” and white glove clean home, to feel, and smell, their presence. Naval Academy kids are not shrinking violets. They naturally do things big, bold, and boisterous. Walls rattle, ceilings vibrate, and doors slam, seemingly for no reason. Pantries are always empty, the fridge mostly bare, and their stuff lies around as if it has no keel or compass. But, when that sea bag drops with such a thud, you know your precocious lamb is back in the loving port from which they once sailed.

I arose early from my slumber this morning. Our home is old so every step on the hardwood floor seems to awaken the squeaky bones of each memory we’ve made here. As my lovely wife and Firstie lie sleeping, with only the light from my phone, I stumbled my way to the kitchen. I don’t know why, but as I walked in and flipped on the light, I noticed our young Navy lady’s house key resting on the rustic, well loved, red oak table where, as a family, we broke bread together for nearly nineteen years.

My heart began to palpitate, not because of a cardiac event, but because that key reminded me of our sweet girl’s forever connection to her true home port. My mind began to swirl as my thoughts spanned from Cheerios scattered on a tray before her she could barely grasp to midnight high school English papers we thought she’d never finish. Needless to say, a few salty tears walked the plank of memory lane. It’s no wonder we never gave away that old faithful table. I guess to do so, would’ve been like giving away a piece of our family’s soul.

No matter our sailor’s longitude, latitude, or which salt stained sea she’s floating on, or under, some day, that house key will always allow her access to the home port from which she came. She is no longer our’s alone, the Navy adopted her on Induction Day. However, we will take great comfort that this simple, seemingly mundane instrument of connection, when needed, will not only unlock the front door to the home that built her, but also to our hearts who once held her tight when sleep was not an option, nourished her hopes and dreams, and taught her how to be a lady first and a warrior second.

gonavy