Marching Orders

“Drill Team, A-Ten-Hut” that was the sound of our Commanding Officer calling for attention.

I remember the command like it was yesterday. I was focused, ready to perform and hoping to make my Mother proud.

I was apart of my church drill team and my Mother watched my every move. Since she was watching I made sure I executed the moves with precision, recited the scriptures with ease and made sure my voice was pitch perfect. I needed to perform well and I needed my Mother’s approval.

I knew I had done well when she smiled and that’s what I lived for. Her approval meant everything to me, especially when I was a young adult. I needed to make her proud.

My Mother was my biggest cheerleader and she taught me to perform at an early age. There were countless days and nights where I had to perfect the drill team routine. We practiced at church but I also practiced at home (and with friends). It was important that I looked the part so I did what I needed to do to perfect the routine. I’m glad to say that more often than not, I got it right but there were a few occasions where I messed up and I was embarrassed. When those mess ups came I knew that I wouldn’t get the reassuring smile from my Mother and I knew she was not happy with me. I had worked too hard to mess up and my Mother knew I could have done better and so did I.

Those drill team moments occurred every summer. Our church was apart of a National Competition and every year the competition was held at a different location. This allowed the drill team members (and our families) to travel and become united as one. This trip used to be the highlight of my summer and it was something I always looked forward to. It allowed me to break away from my Parents (for a little while) and it helped me forge a friendship with the Commander and team.

This was my life throughout high school. I cherish the memories because, although I broke away from my Parents during these trips, I often found myself returning back to them, specifically I found myself returning back to my Mother. When I needed to ask a set of hard questions my Mother was there. When my hair was a mess from wearing the beret, my Mother was there. When I needed words of comfort, my Mother was there. When I needed to find a familiar face in the crowd before my performance, my Mother was there.

She was always there.

Now that she’s passed on, I often wish she was still physically here to watch me perform (in this next act of life) but I know she’s still spiritually with me when I need her.