14 July 2013


Next time it'll be a one-way ticket.
That's the thought I was clinging to as I hugged him, watched him walk into the airport, and drove the familiar route away from the departures area this morning. Every time I do it, I still don't know how I do it.

I got a glimpse of what normal life could be like these past few weeks and it was awesome. It was more than awesome.

Work has been incredibly busy and stressful and even though I made the same mind-numbing drive home, I had something to look forward to at the end of it. As soon as I'd open the door, he'd be there smiling and coming in for a squeeze. Work problems? Whoosh- gone. Instant renewal.

Every moment was bliss and I couldn't take a single one of them for granted.

We had fun. We worked and played. We were busy. We got a lot of things done. It went by too fast. The house looks so different now. Most of his stuff is here, and I can't decide if that makes it easier or harder regarding the feels and the missingness. The garage in particular smells like memories; a haunting, comforting combination of racing smells & laundry detergent.

I'm trying to stay positive and think about how there are no more deployments. How every day brings us closer- even if there's still a lot of time left before anything changes. How I'm thankful he was able to be here this long.

The first day he was home, he walked into the kitchen and startled me because I wasn't used to him being here. Now, I catch myself wondering which room he's in before I remember he's not here. Even though all of these reminders are still here. The empty shampoo bottle in the bathroom trash. The beer bottles in the recycling bin. The pile of clothes on the floor. The half-full gluteny cereal boxes in the pantry. His smell will linger on the towels and sheets, but I know from experience in a day or two it will fade. Everything will be thrown out or stored away, waiting for his return.

As for me, I suppose it's back to wine & chocolate. Good thing Snickers ice cream bars were on sale this week.

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