by Sue Hagan

I've replaced a photo that graced my desk for nearly four years. Taken in the fall of 1999, it featured my then-18-year-old son, his face still possessing some of the softness of youth. He stood tall in a dark U.S. Naval Academy uniform, sleeves stripeless to signify his rank as a plebe.

He had just started his first academic year. Only a few months had passed since he and 1,200 other young Americans vowed on induction day to defend the United States "against all enemies, foreign and domestic."

By the time the photo was taken, Kevin had already settled into a demanding routine, marked by hours of study and leadership training.

For his father and me, that was just the start of four years on an emotional roller coaster.

There were times of worry.

Once, he missed his flight to Brussels and so missed boarding a ship. Does he even know where the American Embassy is?

I've had no phone call for awhile. Is "no news, good news?" I hoped so.

And the worst day of all: Sept. 11. Just how many planes are out there? Is Annapolis a target?

Better were the moments of pride:

• Picking him up at Port Columbus for his first Thanksgiving trip home, and noticing the looks of admiration thrown his way as he strode - in his uniform - from the gate.
• The phone call from his sponsor family in Annapolis telling me of cheers from the crowd after he sang the National Anthem, solo and a cappella, at a Navy basketball game.
• Watching him, not one month ago, accept his diploma from Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld.

So much pride that my eyes fill with tears at the memories.

A lot has happened since that July induction day four years ago - to our country, to Kevin and to me.

Now 22, his face is a bit more angular. In the new photo on my desk, he stands tall in the uniform of a U.S. Navy ensign.

His smile is almost the same, but now there is slight edge.

I noticed that edge the first time I saw him after Sept. 11. he was in Columbus with the Men's Glee Club to sing in a Columbus Day concert, a performance made especially memorable by what had happened to our country less than a month before.

For the first time, I heard him talk about pride in his country and a resolve to "do what I have to do" to keep it safe.

Maybe that was the first time he had expressed his thoughts just that way.

Or maybe it was the first time I really listened. One thing I know is that before 9-11, he was in college. After, he was in the Navy.

Like many others, I have taken for granted the freedoms that we have. Never again.

Because I have grown, too, and I feel keenly what the cost of those freedoms can be.

At the Navy football stadium, the names of battles ring the tiers - Pearl Harbor, Midway,. Now I notice the blank spaces, too. Room for future battles.

Last week, Kevin drove across country to San Diego, where he will serve on the U.S.S. Bonhomme Richard.

His Academy years - "Four years by the bay" - are ended, and so are mine.

But I think I will keep my yellow and blue "Go Navy" sign on the bulletin board for awhile, along with my bobblehead Navy goat and tickets from two Army-Navy games.

They symbolize who I have become over the past four years: the mom of a Naval officer.

Now, in choker whites, he looks out from the new photo on my desk.

God bless you, Kevin, and your classmates who have chosen to serve our country. With you, I send a heart full of pride and love.

And, in the navy way, a wish for fair winds and following seas.

Sue Hagan is the mother of a Class of 2003 graduate and is a reporter for This Week Newspapers in Columbus, Ohio.