I was darned near getting a second hand high off the adrenaline that was emitting through my phone's speaker as he relayed the events of the previous few hours. His first foot pursuit and his first combative suspect that he was able to "try out" some of his defensive tactics on. All within a matter of minutes.
It was his first day on day shift after completing FTO. "Oh and by the way, I'll need a new uniform."
"Bring it home for me to see", I replied.
We don't live in the town where he works. And you see, out here in the Bay Area our cops aren't allowed to drive home in uniform. At least not at my husbands department and everyone else's that I know. It's just too dangerous. They'd be a moving "target". Many of the gang initiations include shooting or injuring a police officer. So twisted. Plus the racial tensions are peaking, but that's for another post. So, I feel kinda jipped. CA Cop in his uniform is eye candy that I crave. But I digress..
When he came home that night he brought his uniform with him. Torn hole in the knee, ripped and dangling shoulder piece, and the material worn in spots from rubbing against the pavement. His knee was scraped and bloody and his forearm in its entirety was covered in a pattern one could only describe as road rash. In fact, a few small rocks were crusted over with blood and stuck to his wounds. And this was after a battle he had won. He was beaming. A rite of passage, I guessed. His knuckles hurt from some blows he had delivered to the suspect’s rib cage, which I learned, had been the decided factor to go ahead and "stop resisting".
I was lost in my own thoughts. So he got in a fight today. Wow. I guess I should add that CA Cop is, if I'm not too cliché to say "a lover and not a fighter". I was pleased to see that when necessary the latter would be a plausible option.
My thoughts were interrupted. Sierra approached her dad and examined the freshly disturbed flesh. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes. "Is that from a bad guy, daddy?" She's so aware, doesn't miss a beat.
"No, baby, bad guys won't ever hurt daddy."
And I think to myself. This time the bumps and bruises are metals of achievement. He came out on top. At the end of the day I hope that every bandage I prepare for him is delivered to a man that has that same look of accomplishment in his eyes.