My name is Ryan Saunders, and today I’m standing in line with the other new recruits, the weight of my freshly issued green jacket resting heavily on my shoulders. Dark cargo pants and sturdy boots complete the standard-issue look, marking me as one of many—just another face in the long row of young men and women ready to begin basic training.

But as I glance to my left, I realize I’m anything but alone. There, standing right beside me, is my mom, “Alex”. I stare, my mind racing. She’s dressed differently than anyone here, in her customized version of the uniform, fitted with more pockets than I can count, and her hair tied back in that familiar ponytail. It’s clear she’s made her own impression among the recruits; I can hear some of them chuckling, even whistling.

Mom: “I didn’t want to leave you here alone, sweetie,” she says with a grin that’s both playful and serious. My face flushes as a few of the guys nearby smirk and nudge each other.

Jack: “Hey, Saunders, that's your mom?”

Some lets out a low whistle. “Lucky us,” he mutters, earning a few laughs.

I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the embarrassment that swells inside me. This was definitely not how I pictured my first day in the army.