sometimes i get perturbed.
about silly things…
with the fact that he’s never home,
with snoring,
with socks thrown all over the house.
and then i remember that year.
six deployments now, but i always think of that year.
the fear, the terror, the worry.
the 25 pounds i lost, the memorial services attended, listening to amazing grace and seeing the anguish and despair on the faces of the women left behind.
looking at my girls, and for the first time in my life not knowing whether their daddy would come home.
the lines on his face that he acquired over that year.
the churning stomach, nails bit to the quick, emotional phone calls.
i think about that,
and suddenly i don’t give a damn that he didn’t help me do the dishes. all i care about is that he is here. and how lucky i am that he came home.
s