I arrived at the Fort Benning Army Base in Georgia on a Sunday. The heat smacked me upside the head as soon as I stepped foot out of the airport. It was the first time I'd left New York City and the first time I'd be away from my mom for so long.

Last night, we had a quiet dinner with my uncle. My mom told me I could choose my "last meal," and I decided on pizza. I needed to savor the taste of city pizza while I could. I had no idea the next time I'd have city food, so I stuffed myself with as many slices as I could keep down. That ended up being about four slices at dinner and two for breakfast this morning. My uncle drove us to LaGuardia. The entire drive was silent as anticipation and sorrow filled the car. I wasn’t sure if I'd be able to come home for a visit after basic training, so I knew it might be our last few minutes together for a very long time.

My uncle parked the car outside of Departures and helped me retrieve my bags from the trunk. My mom still hadn't spoken a word, but I couldn't blame her. She was about to "lose" her son a few years after she lost her husband. I think she had come to terms with my decision, though. While I could still see the sadness glowing in her emerald eyes, there was no anger or resentment.

My uncle slammed the trunk down, and we all looked at each other. I sighed heavily as my uncle pulled me into his arms.

"Be good, kid. Come home safely."

"Love you, Uncle Jim."

I choked back the tears as I approached my mom. She stood limply in a puffy winter coat which was now far too big for her weak body. He hair lay flat on her head, utterly devoid of life and luster. Guilt crushed my soul to leave her like this, but I knew Uncle Jim would take care of her.

"Well, this is it," I mumbled.

"I'm proud of you, son."

And, that's when I lost it. Sobs erupted deep within my belly, and I pulled her into my arms. I squeezed her, maybe too tightly, but I didn't care. I wanted this moment to last forever. I needed to remember I still had someone worth fighting for.

Uncle Jim checked his watch and tapped me on the shoulder. "Time to go."

I let go of my mom and nodded. I wiped away the tears, but couldn't fill the hole in my heart. I was leaving a piece of me behind. I was leaving New York behind, too.

My uncle and mom got back into the car, and I watched as they slowly drove away. With each passing second, my heart pounded harder and harder. The tough part was just beginning.

* * *

The first couple of days weren't too bad. Mostly because I only underwent administrative processes and filled out forms. The hardest part, at first, was getting my hair cut. Not that I had long hair or anything, but I had a few inches of curls most men and women envied. Hey, it's not my fault I caught people staring at my luscious locks during class!

I met my fellow trainees and even made a friend or two. Hudson was my age but twice as buff. I could tell he'd been training and preparing for months before enlisting. I found out he grew up in Manhattan only a few blocks away from me, too. Who could have guessed we'd spend our entire lives so close, only to meet hundreds of miles away in boot camp?

Then there was Spencer. Spence was a computer nerd who dreamt of becoming a famous war hero. I think he watched Saving Private Ryan one too many times, but he wouldn't admit that. He grew up in Brooklyn, but dropped out of NYU to enlist.

Hudson, Spencer and I became attached at the hip in no time. Not literally, but we were the only ones in our class from New York City. In a brand new world filled with strangers, at least we had a little semblance of home in each other. We chose bunks closest to each other and became best friends and roommates for the next several weeks.

Basic Training kicked my ass. The first time I met my drill sergeant, he woke us up in the middle of the night. He bellowed as he burst through the doors like the Hulk. He ordered us to drop and give him one hundred push-ups. After that he ordered us to run five miles. Whoever finished last had to run another five miles. I hadn't run since I was forced to in gym class back in high school, and even then we only had to run two miles at most. It didn't take long for sweat to cover my entire body and for me to believe I had developed asthma. Needless to say, I ran ten miles for the first time in my life that day. I thought I was in a nightmare or something. It turns out I went and joined the freaking military instead.

I immediately regretted my decision to enlist. What the hell was I thinking joining the military? I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't made to run and hoist my sweaty body up from the ground. I was one more push-up away from quitting. My body ached, and I wanted it all to stop. I had no endurance. I wasn't a soldier. I was a spoiled rich kid who grew up affluent in New York City. Why did I ever think I was qualified to serve my country? The sergeants did their very best to break us down. I knew it was all part of the process, but it didn't matter. Basic was killing me inside.

Then, I remembered why I joined in the first place. My father's face appeared in my mind, and I thought back to the very last conversation we had. I told him I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life, that I felt lost, and I wasn't sure if college was right for me.

He looked straight into my eyes and told me, "Son, you can do whatever you set your mind to. Just don't set it to giving up. You'll find your place."

The next day he died. Did the universe plan it all? Was I meant to feel lost that night, only for him to tell me those final, wise words? Did he know someday I'd need the courage to keep going?

With that memory in mind, a jolt of lightning coursed through my veins. The adrenaline I desperately needed kicked in, and I managed to find the strength I needed to go on. I may have been miserable, but I didn't give up.

As training progressed, my body grew stronger and stronger. My endurance increased; my stamina exploded, and my mental stability evened out. The routine kept me focused, and the challenges kept me striving for success.

Hudson easily became the top of our Basic class, while Spence and I climbed the ranks every day. Soon, I didn't mind having someone telling me what to do and when to do it. Following orders simply became second nature to me, and I couldn't get enough of the structure and solid foundation forming underneath my feet. In retrospect, I'd begun to realize that it was necessary to break us down so the military could build us back up—only as soldiers, built to fight for our country.

I missed my mom and uncle more and more every day, however, the strength I'd found made it a lot easier to manage the distance between myself and my family. I called on Sunday nights if I could and talked to Mom for about five minutes or so. Uncle Jim filled me in as much as he could, but I knew there wasn't much to say. My mom's situation remained the same. She continued to grieve for my father and disappeared within herself. She was a ghost.

Graduation approached, and I prepared myself to slide into the next phase of my military career: Infantry Training.