La la happy land...

It has been seven months since Hubby left, and being just about half way through, I can't help but notice something within myself: resentment. 

They're everywhere. At the gym. On the T. At bars. The beach, gas station, restaurants, walking, biking, laughing, smiling, holding hands. Barf. 

The couple. They haunt me. Everywhere I go I can't help but notice happy couples together in their own la la happy land where nothing else matters but each other, where they can live in eternal bliss. I wish they would all vanish. I don't want to see them, hear them, even think about them. I may sound like an angry divorcee who has sworn off men and relationships, but I am just the opposite. I am missing my husband. He has been gone for way too long. 

Whenever I see a couple out in public, I can't help but resent them. I can't help but look at them and shake my head because they have no idea how easy they have it. I always feel that they haven't truly learned what love is if they haven't been through a deployment. What really gets under my skin is when a girl will complain that her boyfriend went out of town for a few days and she "totally knows how I feel." Haha. Riiight. All I can do is laugh. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose. 

However, when I meet a military couple who has been through a deployment, there is an instant bond, an understanding. There's the obvious bond between Blaze, Biscuit and I. We have all been through it and they know exactly how I feel. There is the reassurance from Biscuit that the feelings I have are normal and she had them too and the things that Hubby is going through, Blaze went through as well. More importantly, there is respect. There is a respect that I have for Blaze and Biscuit because they, too, have endured more than most couples could even fathom. There is a mutual understanding. 

I cannot wait for the day when Hubby and I carry on our newly wed routines and join those couples that I resent. The thought of being back in Hawaii seems so distant that I can't even imagine what it will be like. Even though R and R is only two months away, I still can't picture Hubby and I doing things together. In 67 days, Hubby and I will temporarily be back in la la happy land. It can't come soon enough. 

The Anniversary

It's hard to believe that 365 days ago, Hubby and I were drinking champagne, eating cake and dancing with 104 of our closest friends and family. It's hard to believe that it's already been a year and in looking back over the past 12 months, I can't believe I've made it. 

Exactly two weeks after Hubby and I said, 'I do,' he left to head back to Hawaii to get ready for three months of training in the California desert, a pseudo-Iraq of sorts. I spent the better part of those three months moping around my apartment and around Columbia, SC taking the woe-is-me standpoint on my life. It was miserable. Finally, mid-October rolled around and I found myself back in Hawaii with Hubby until December 10 when he deployed. If you do the math correctly, in the year Hubby and I have been married, we have been together for two and a half months. 

Many people turn up their noses at me, asking why I would marry him before he left and I am sure that the majority of people at our wedding questioned how it would possibly work out between Hubby and I. We didn't date long before our engagement and he would be gone for our first year and a half of marriage. Well, we proved them all wrong. 

Hubby left in December and to be honest I think the anticipation of the deployment was almost worst than what I have had to endure thus far. Not knowing is the hardest part. When he left I did not want to be moping around Boston, so I got my act together and sucked it up, as much as possible. Somehow, it has already been seven months since he left and somehow we're almost half way through the deployment. Somehow, Hubby and I have made it to our first wedding anniversary without each other. But, when I look back on the past year, I do not look back with sorrow, but I look back and am glad. Even though our first year of marriage has been spent apart, we had the most amazing time together in Hawaii and that is just a taste of what the future holds for Hubby and I. 

If I had to do it all over again, I would never want it any other way. I could not have found a husband more perfect for me than Hubby. He is truly my best friend. I would wait a lifetime for him. 

Happy anniversary hubby. 

Some people

After six and a half months of deployment, there are still people at the gym that ask about Hubby. It always surprises me that most know when he's coming home for R and R and some come up to me with the approximate countdown. "Getting close," they'll say. "Just under three months before you get to see your sweetie." It's nice to know that some people, even though they only know the gym side of me, care enough to acknowledge the issue at hand. 

However, there is one man who introduced himself to me back in December. For the life of me, I cannot remember his name, but for convenience sake we'll call him Bob. He's probably in his mid-60s, not a gym regular, but regular enough. Whenever he comes in, he asks how Hubby is and how much longer until I see him. He usually adds in his political outlook on the war, the president and snide comments on my marriage. He does not fall into the category of people I described in an earlier post. Those are the people who don't know they upset me, I am pretty sure Bob would have to be a complete idiot not to realize what he says is hurtful and disrespectful. 

Today. I got to the gym a little earlier than normal, 8:45am. I head to the treadmills and start stretching. I notice Bob stroll in and make his way over to me on the treadmills, "great," I think to myself. Of course even with 5 others available, he takes the one right next to me. I can't stand it when people try to have a conversation with me while I'm running, especially when they're walking or not doing anything at all. They just want a quick convo before they leave or before they start working out or in between their sets. What annoys me even more is that 99% of the time I am listening to my iPod. I usually try to brush them off with a one word response or a quick smile, but it usually doesn't work. I take out my headphones, and usually try to keep running, if they don't accept my one word answers, I reluctantly slow the treadmill to a walk and listen to what they have to say, again reluctantly. 

Back to Bob. He starts the treadmill at a comfortable 3.0, an easy walk.

 "So, when does your husband come home?" 

"Mid-September," I reply, thinking, 'don't we have this same conversation every time I see you?' 

"Gee, that's still so far away."

"Not really."

"So what does he say about the war?"

"Um, not too much. They're helping the people," I say, trying not to roll my eyes or be too rude. 

"Well, you know I think it's a good thing we're over there. I could never vote for no Obama. If I had a son that was killed over there and Obama took everyone out, I'd feel that my son's death would be for no good reason."

Head nod, fake smile.

"It's a good thing we hanged than damn Heussein. He was the modern day Hitler. And if you saw the look on his face before they put the noose around his neck... he knew he was wrong. He knew he was going to hell."

No response, but thinking 'Do Muslims believe in Heaven and Hell?'

"So how long have you been married?"

"A year" I sigh. 'Great this again,' I think to myself.

"And he's been gone since December? Gee not much of a first year of marriage huh?"

No response, blank stare.

"How long were you together before you got married?"

"About a year," I lie. 

"Hahahaha,"

'Are you serious,' I think to myself, 'is this man really LAUGHING at me?!'

"What are you 21?"

"No, 23."

"Wow, you're really getting up there. Hahaha."

I fight back to urge to kick his foot so he falls off the treadmill.

"Do you regret marrying him before he left for Iraq? Or are you glad you did?"

I try to peel my jaw off the treadmill belt. "I'm glad I did," I said, horrified. 'Who is this man, and who the hell does he think he is asking me these questions and then asking me these questions while I am working out?!!!'

"Really, why?"

I ignore him, put my headphones back on, crank up the music and start a sprint, hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone forever. 

He did take the hint and didn't say anything to me after that. Who says stuff like that anyway? Why would someone I barely know, ask me such personal questions. Is it ignorance? Is it curiosity? Either way it's offensive. Geez, some people. 

Not my words

As summer continues, I have found my life as of recent to be quite bland and un-noteworthy. I have gathered a few of the best quotations to sum up my emotions in missing my hubby. There is, however, just over two months until he comes home for R&R. 

"All days are nights to see till I see thee, 

And nights bright days when dreams do show thee to me."

-William Shakespeare, Sonnet XLIII

"Oft in the tranquil hour of night, 

When stars illume the sky, 

I gaze upon each orb of light, 

And wish that thou wert by."

-George Linley

"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dream, we can play together all night."

-Bill Watterson

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." 

-Annie, the musical

"The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning."

-Ivy Baker Priest

Sweet, bittersweet summertime

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I live for the summertime. The sun invigorates my soul and lifts my spirits. It is hard for me to be in a bad mood when the sun is out and the temperature is over 75 degrees. 

Coming back home to Boston in the dead of winter after Hubby left was not my ideal situation... especially after having lived in South Carolina for three years and spending the past fall and early winter in Hawaii. I stepped off the plane in a track suit, no jacket, but was greeted by my parents with a warm, welcoming down North Face jacket. Even that didn't make me feel warm when we first stepped out into the bitter Boston night time air. 20 degrees, generously. Everyone down in South Carolina would always say when it got cold out, "you're from the north, you should be used to this!" Well, no. Sorry, I've never liked the cold weather, never could acclimate to it. Nope, that's half the reason I moved south in the first place. It's all relative. In Hawaii, I would put on pants and a long-sleeved shirt if it got below 75. Enough said. 

Anyway, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and somehow I've found myself in the middle of June. How six months of this deployment has passed I have no idea. I have also found myself some nice weather. It finally surpassed 90 degrees for the past four days, an official heat wave per Massachusetts standards. 

On Sunday, in the prime of the heat wave, Lainey had come back to our small country town for a family graduation party. Blaze, Biscuit and I found ourselves at Lainey's lakeside house relaxing in the shade, eating potato salad and sandwiches, jumping off the dock and swimming out to the raft, sunning ourselves. True summertime. Bliss. There is nothing greater than Massachusetts in the summer. 

Normally, if I were in South Carolina 90 would be on the cool side for the month of June, but in Massachusetts where no one has central AC, I was glad for the heat to pass. As I type right now, outside, a solid 78 degrees (thank you Mac) I feel the warmth of the sun on my face, a slight cool breeze, not a cloud in the big blue, I can't help but think this is perfection. Well, any sort of perfection that can be had away from the beach. 

However, there just seems to be something missing. Summertime is here and I could not be happier. What is it? Hubby. I wish that I could have swam in the lake with him, brought him to Lainey's. I wish that we could go relax on the beach like we did in Hawaii every weekend or go snorkeling. I wish I could take him to a Sox game or watch the Celtics playoff games together. 

I was looking forward to summer since the minute I stepped foot into the bitter December air the day after Hubby left. Now it's here and all I can do is look forward to the fall, well September really, when he'll finally be home for R&R. 

I know I will enjoy my summer, I always do. I'll still go into Boston to go shopping with my girlfriends, head to the beach, go to Maine with my parents, I'll have a sunkissed glow, and I'll swim in the ocean just so I can feel the salt on my face and in my hair, I'l probably go boating and get ice cream with my friends, but underneath it all, I'll just be going through the motions until Hubby comes home. 

Hellaciousness

Now, the deployment is not all rampant emotions, there are some serious decisions that have to be made during this period. 

I graduated high school in 2003 and attended the University of Massachusetts at Amherst as a Business student for the first year and a half. In January 2005, I packed up my life and moved to South Carolina to study Public Relations. Well, at the time it was Advertising then Economics then Public Relations. Needless to say, with the transfer and major switching, I was going to be behind on graduating. But, who finishes school in 4 years now anyway? Right? Well, three years into school I was getting pretty anxious to finish. I took summer classes all summer for two summers, picked up 6 or 7 classes each semester and somehow when it came time for me to move to Hawaii, I was still nowhere near finishing. After ditching a corrupt advisor whose scheme it was to keep me in school for as long as possible, I finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

My new advisor has helped me more than any one advisor really should. He bent over backwards to get a committee approve my request to finish my last seven courses away from South Carolina. Somehow it has worked out that I could take three classes as distance classes through South Carolina and four were to be taken at different universities to transfer into Carolina. Confusing, I know. 

I am eternally grateful to my advisor and school dean for helping me out with this venture, thanks to them I do not have to be in Columbia, SC (worst place on Earth) while Hubby is gone. I get to be with my family and my friends during this hard time. 

So what's the problem? Timing. Graduation is in August. Hubby comes home for R&R in mid-September for 18 days. By the time I graduate and can work for a real company, Hubby will be home for R&R, which I will not miss a single minute. If I start working when he leaves it gives me barely four and a half months. I am stuck in a huge dilemma. What kind of job do I get? I've been looking for internships and real jobs with no such luck. Do I get a whatever kind of job just to bring in a paycheck? If I choose the latter, my resume will be blank from 2006 - 2009. Not admirable to employers, especially for new college grads. 

For the last few weeks, since I've finished my nightmarish spring semester, have been full of this hellacious stress. WHAT DO I DO?! Ahh, I want to scream. Well no, actually I want someone to knock on my door and offer me a fabulous job preferable in PR or Recruiting, Sales maybe and wants to pay me $60,000 a year. 

Since we all know that's not going to happen, I'll be continuing my job hunt. I'm not sure I can take this hellaciousness for much longer, so let's hope someone bites!

You don't need to be strong all the time

This past Memorial Day weekend was a great one. One filled with family, friends and yep, a wedding. The first I've attended since Hubby and I tied the knot almost a year ago (!!!). The previously mentioned Blaze and Biscuit married on Sunday the 25th of May and it was a fabulous day. I wasn't sure how I would handle the day, weddings = happiness = Hubby = Hubby not here. Being a full Catholic mass, about 30 minutes in, the priest got to the part where we pray for specific people in need. Being Memorial Day weekend and the fact that Blaze is a Marine, we prayed for the servicemen and women, those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice in the name of our freedom and for the safety of those currently in Afghanistan and Iraq. Well, in a moment of weakness, the tears started flowing. Hubby was not standing beside me to watch two of my greatest friends get married, he would not be there to dance with me at the reception or to share the happiness of the day. We were praying for him, for his safety and it all hit me at once. Very rarely have I cried since the day Hubby left, especially not in front of people. My mom grabbed my hand as the salty tears streamed down my face. My head hung as I attempted to regain composure, I felt a cool hand against my warm back, my best friend, Lainey, wanting me to know that she is always there for me. 

A stark moment of weakness. For about five minutes, all I could think about was that. Weakness. I'm supposed to be strong and the moment I fall, had to be in front of 200 people on the happiest day of Biscuit and Blaze's lives? I was disappointed in myself. I had let myself down. Three days later and this is still bothering me. Why? Simple really. I have been strong for so long, and not even half of the way through, weakness is trying to rear it's ugly head. It's been easy to push it back in, but with all of that emotion, I couldn't. 

We arrived at the reception and shortly thereafter, my phone rings. Hubby. Excited, I excuse myself from a conversation with a friend and her boyfriend. We chatted for a while and he asks how the wedding was and the reception and if I was having a fun time. "Yeah of course," I told him. "It'd be better if you were there though." He laughs and says, "I know honey, everything's more fun when we're together." I confessed to the incident in the church and tell him how I had really let myself down. "I just felt so weak. I should be strong and instead there was weakness." Hubby paused, offered sympathy, apologized for not being there and said, "you know, you don't need to be strong all the time." I smiled. He was right, completely right. Although I wish my moment of weakness wasn't in the church of 200 people, I realized that it's ok to cry. It's ok to be weak every once in a while. 

I don't need to be strong all the time. 

Unusual suspects

I recently received an email from Hubby's troop FRG (family readiness group) about a hate group that was coming to protest at our home base in Hawaii. Being ignorant of the evils in the world, I figured it was on the same level of the free-loving-tree-hugging hippies that protested the Marines up in San Francisco earlier this year. As I continued reading the email, my eyes were opened to a world I had previously been quite unfamiliar with, a group of hate, deception, brainwashing, more of an evil cult than anything else. What surprised me the most was the name these demonic people worship under, Westboro Baptist Church. What saddens me is that they use the name of Christianity to preach hatred and intolerance. 

A little background on WBC as explained in an Army brief...

"Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kansas is an independent congregation of 80 members, mostly blood or marriage relatives of 76-year-old Fred Phelps, who founded WBC in 1955. The group routinely travels the country preaching "the Bible's hatred," advocating the death pentalty for homosexuals and picketing the funerals of people who die from AIDS. Recently the group has concentrated on the funerals of soldiers felled in Iraq, "thanking God" for the deaths it attributes to America's "fag-enabling" ways. These pickets have led to state and federal legislation aimed at restraining the 76-year-old Fred Phelps Sr., who has 14 children, most of whom remain loyal to their father."

The article continues explaining that, "[Fred Phelps] is a disbarred lawyer and founder of the Phelps Chartered law firm. WBC is listed as a hate group by the South Poverty Law Center and Anti Defamation League. He is known for preaching with slogans and banners denoting phrases such as "Thank God for 9/11," "America is doomed," "God hates fags," "AIDS cures fags."  

More recently, the WBC has been concentrating on soldiers, picketing their funerals and protesting at military bases. They hold heartless, demeaning signs saying, "Thank God for IEDs" "Pray for more dead soldiers," "They are not heroes," "God hates America" so on and so forth. The majority of the members are lawyers and therefore, they videotape each protest and use these signs to get the opposing crowed all riled up, if physical contact occurs, WBC sues. This is how they make their money. These are truly sick people. They have their children, infants, toddlers, youth and adolescents in t-shirts that have this hateful paraphernalia on it. The sad part is that these kids have no say, they don't know it's wrong to think this. They don't know that God loves everyone or that the soldiers they protest against, gave them the right to preach such horrid messages. 

Their messages have not stopped at homosexuals and military personnel, they also carry signs reading, "Pray for more dead kids," "Thank God for Katrina." They attended the funerals of the victims of the Virginia Tech shootings, thanking God for dead children. Where do these sick people come from? I pity them because they have obviously been brainwashed for so long, they do not understand the difference between right and wrong. 

One of their more public demonstrations was a picket at the funeral of LCpl. Matthew Snyder, screaming to his mourning family that their son was "in hell" and that he "deserved to die" and held their signs reading, "thank God for dead soldiers." Fortunately, the Synder family sued WBC for damages and were granted $12 million. 

We as a country, should not tolerate this behavior. Whether we are liberal or conservative, something needs to be done. Their voices need to be silenced. How do we begin to complete such a task? Unfortunately, their protesting is protected by the first amendment. However, there are angels among us. A group of biker men also showed up at LCpl. Snyder's funeral after hearing the the WBC would be there as well. They lined their bikes up in front of WBC stood there shoulder to shoulder with American flags in their hands so the family could not see the offensive signs. Over time this group has taken official form and is called Patriot Guard Riders, their motto, "Standing for those who stood for US." 

The Patriot Guard Riders website explains who they are. "The Patriot Guard Riders is a diverse amalgamation of riders from across the nation. We have one thing in common besides motorcycles. We have an unwavering respect for those who risk their very lives for America's freedom and security. If you share this respect, please join us. We don't care what you ride, what your political views are, or whether you're a 'hawk' or a 'dove.' It is not a requirement that you be a veteran. It doesn't matter where you're from or what your income is. You don't even have to ride. The only prerequisite: Respect. Our main mission is to attend the funeral service of fallen American heroes as invited guests of the family. Each mission we undertake has two basic objectives: 1. Show our sincere respect for our fallen heroes, their families and their communities. *2. Shield the mourning family and friends from interruptions created by any protestor or group of protestors.   *We accomplish the latter through strictly legal and non violent means."Please pay their website (at the bottom of the post) a visit to see just how much they have done to give back and to protect those fallen heroes.  

In this situation the usual suspects have switched roles, the members of this church are comparable to the devil. The bikers whose stereotype is usually comparable to an outlaw are the angels in this situation of hatred. How long will America tolerate hate groups like this? WBC does not discriminate, they hate everyone except for themselves, they hate America, homosexuals, soldiers, children, everyone. It is 2008, tolerance should be routine. 

http://www.patriotguard.org/Home/tabid/53/Default.aspx

The countdown

Ever since Hubby and I started dating, our lives have been nothing but a countdown; counting to the day we see each other again. 

When we first started dating, he was at Ft. Knox in Kentucky and I was at school in South Carolina, we'd chat on the phone and send emails, but were counting until sometime in October when we could see each other. Finally, the weekend came and seemed to last about 10 minutes, but it wasn't too bad because we knew I'd be heading out to San Diego to visit him while he was at his parent's place. That came, and again, the weekend seemed to last about 10 minutes. When he dropped me off at the airport so I could head back to South Carolina, it was a little harder, we were going to see each other in Hawaii after Christmas. And thus began the next countdown. 

Mid-October to late December seemed to drag on and on. Every morning when I woke, I'd tear off another post-it revealing a number one less than the day before. Hubby did surprise me by coming to Massachusetts on December 24th to spend Christmas with my family and I, which was very exciting for me, not only because I got to see Hubby (then boyfriend) but it knocked a solid seven days off the countdown. He left, and a couple days later I was on a plane around the world to visit Hubby. 

We spent about ten days together in Hawaii before Hubby dropped me off at the airport. This time was notably harder than times past and I learned that each successive goodbye is always harder than the last. This goodbye would have to last three months before I could come back to Hawaii over spring break. After spring break it was another three months before I would be back to Hawaii to spend the summer before the wedding with Hubby. Countdowns galore. But what were we counting to? A few days, weeks, months together before we'd have to part ways to our own lives until we would see each other again for a visit?

A solid two weeks after the wedding, we drove to Charlotte, NC where Hubby would be taking the 6am flight back to Hawaii for more training, I would stay in South Carolina to complete more coursework. This was the hardest goodbye to date. I cried at the airport, I cried the whole hour and a half back to Columbia, I cried the rest of the day, and the worst part of it all was the fact that my roommate had gone away for the weekend. I had no one there. I was lonely and sad and three months away from seeing my new husband. 

I tried not to start my countdown until at least a few weeks in, but, it just didn't work out that way. I made it as soon as I composed myself the night I dropped Hubby off. 95 days. Every morning I'd rip off a post-it and throw it away, my trash filled only with pink post-it notes was symbolic of the time passing. This time was harder than the rest. I'm not sure if it was because we were newly married or if because all of my friends who had previously been around the Columbia area had graduated and moved out of the world's worst city. I stayed busy with work and exercise and classes, but it still didn't help. I'd wake up, rip off a pink post-it, toss it in the trash, flip on the news in hope that President Bush decided to end the war so Hubby wouldn't have to go, and disappointed, I'd pull on my workout clothes and head to the gym for at least two hours. I can say that boredom has kept me in quite great shape. I'd come home, go to work, come home, do schoolwork, go to bed, and do it all in the morning. Rip off a pink post-it, flip on the news.... 

Time was at a standstill. Every morning that I woke up, I realized everything I was doing seemed to be without heart or passion, I was just going through the motions. Everyday that passed was not another day of my life but just another day closer to Hubby. Each time I pulled a number off the countdown, I'd remind myself, "one day down, one day closer." Time, I thought, would never pass. Why is it that when you want time to fly by, it drags and when you want it to slow down, it flies? An interesting paradox. 

Well, finally, it was the day I was heading back to Hawaii to spend two months with Hubby before he left for Iraq. What relief I felt when I finally saw Hubby and we were able to go on date nights and swim at the beach together, even grocery shopping was fun if it were together. Oh, how I wanted time to be put on pause. Faster than you read the last sentence, it was December 10 and Hubby was leaving for Iraq. Another countdown, only this time it couldn't be counted in days. Well, it could but 454 days is a pretty overwhelming countdown. 

I tried to hold off as long as possible on the countdown but with little success. I couldn't help myself, about two weeks into the deployment I created a bi-monthly countdown. I rip a purple post-it off every two weeks. It's now on 10 months, May 22 will indicate 9.5 months and so on. I look forward to each time I get to rip off another post-it, but what I really am looking forward to is the time when I don't need to keep a countdown. 

When Hubby comes home, I will never again countdown days, weeks or months. Why would I? I will have nothing better to face than the present. 

Just to see you smile

As Hubby's deployment drew nearer, the more anxious I became. Feelings of uncertainty, angst and dread overcame my person. "How am I going to do this?" I'd think to myself. 15 months is a long time, there's no debating that; the question was: what do I do with myself? Deployment homefront veterans tell you what to do, what not to do, but until you've walked the walk, you never know what's going to work best. 

All my life I have struggled with boredom. It may sound like a petty battle but if my day is not filled completely, I go insane. There has not been a day since Hubby left where my day wasn't packed from 8am through 6pm. Taking six courses (20 credit hours) and five days of two hour workouts each week have kept me occupied for about ten hours each day. Weekends filled with family, friends and fun. However, as the semester has wound down, with two courses completed, I am having a hard time figuring out what to do with myself. I will be starting two new courses over the summer, but what do I do in the meantime?

I have always heard that deployments are a time of personal growth, a time of self-discovery and to be honest, I thought it was a load of BS (excuse the language) before this began. Only five months in, I have already discovered how I cope, not just with the deployment, but with bad situations in general. When I fill my days beyond capacity, I don't have time to think about Hubby. I don't have time to wonder why he hasn't called, to think about the danger he is in, or the 10 months ahead of us. I don't have time to wrap my head around the possibility of him not coming home. But, with all this free time, I do. 

Five months in and I've already come to this realization, in addition, I have realized just how important family and friends are. In times like this, it becomes apparent that your family will always be there for you and you discover who your true friends are (lucky for me, I have a lot of amazing friends). 

After this is all over, and we have endured 15 months of separation, I know that Hubby and I will never take one day together for granted, we will live in the moment and enjoy each other's company. Never again will I keep another countdown (my hatred for which will be articulated in its own post) nor will I ever cross each day off the calendar. 

The only thing that keeps me positive is quite intangible: promise of the future. I daydream, quite often, of Hubby getting off the plane for R and R (mid-tour leave) and running, once again, into the safety and security of his arms. I imagine touching his face and feeling his hand around mine, sensations I can barely remember, memories I try to hold onto. I try to remember all of his little quirks, but they are five months lost. When I close my eyes, I can't picture his handsome face. When I came to this troubling realization, I was quite saddened. I can't picture his mannerisms, the way he walks or laughs. What hurts the most though, is that I can't remember how he looks at me. 

The day that Hubby comes home for R and R cannot come soon enough, but the thought of it is what keeps me going. Until that day comes, all I can do is wait and hope that I have a task to do each day in order to pass the time, but more importantly, to keep my mind from wandering.