Tag Archives: love

Taking Time to Make the Time

28 Oct

We have resigned the Army.  We broke away and came (what feels in some ways like) full-circle.  In some ways it feels like completely uncharted territory — full-circle isn’t supposed to feel so unknown, is it?

When HD returned from Afghanistan I was overwhelmed with how similar the Army is to being in an abusive relationship, and like a bad boyfriend the Army made itself tough to leave.  My HD and I are practical planners, so as we searched the world for a new home and work, the Army kept whispering in our ear he’d make things so much easier if we’d just stay.  We wouldn’t have to try to figure out so many answers; the answers would all be given to us.  We wouldn’t have to figure out anything! Just relax and let him take care of it. ::insert creepy shoulder massage from behind so only an onlooker can see the wicked grin on his face::

Continue reading

Advertisements

sweet pea

14 Feb

20120214-204306.jpg

Two years ago today my husband sat across from me on our Valentine’s date and told me he would be deploying.  I was wearing my six-week old son on my chest, eating sushi.  We were stationed in Hawaii, so every date seemed like a dream, no matter what.  Even with a child, it was an idyllic place to celebrate.  Bonsai Sushi on the North Shore.  I stared off in the distance, and felt my mind leave our Family celebration as I absorbed what this meant.  Ever since my dear HD had graduated school it was beyond a doubt that he would deploy at some point.  Once he took his assignment in Hawaii, it also became certain that deployment would last one year.  No one avoids this, in his position.  Furthermore, he had no intention of trying to avoid it.  I saw it as one of his rites of passage.

Continue reading

All we need are our arms and hands and lips

15 Sep

Usually when I feel this level of un-rest it’s not in expectation of anything real. I’ll get antsy to the point of paralysis, and my circulation will reduce to whatever is necessary to keep me alive. That’s what it’s like right now; my extremities are tingling, and all I want to do is eat Cheese Its and play Angry Birds. But I have a pretty extensive to-do list. Because this time — this restlessness — is not just for philosophical dilemmas. This time, it’s for a reason.

My dear HD is boarding a plane soon — a couple hours soon — or maybe a helicopter. I’m not sure how the first leg of his journey will begin. His ruck is packed and I doubt he’ll sleep at all. It’s mid-afternoon for me, but his flight takes off at midnight his time. He’ll hop from one country to another, and after about five days he’ll be with me.

I’m paralyzed with anticipation, despite how long my list is of things I want to do to prepare for him. Nothing will be enough. Everything will be wasted, too, though. Nothing is necessary. All we need are our arms and hands and lips.

My mind is dizzy. I’ve gotten quite comfortable with this single life. Not every day is hell, like it once was. Now he’ll be amongst us again. His voice in the air, his smell on my sheets, his touch on my skin. All this but for only a short time.

This really, truly is so much like being pregnant. I feel like I did when my labor was in the early stages. A rush of panic to prepare the last-minute, finishing touches, but a light-headedness that sends me reeling in circles any time I try to stand up.

I’m glad I’m not alone with just the Young G. My mother-in-law is here and was married to an officer for over 30 years (still married, no longer active duty). She knows, if anyone knows.

Paranoia

10 Sep

I like to view this year as an experiment.  I’m doing trials on separation, travel, motherhood, single-motherhood, long-distance love, living with family, packing a car, and lonesomeness.  Most of these were predictable from the first time I learned we would face this deployment (Valentine’s day, 2010).  I was even able to anticipate some of the side-effects.  For instance, I realized that I would learn to live “normally” without my husband; I would get used to him being gone, essentially.  I knew I would become homesick for my own territory.  I knew Young G would develop cognitively with an awareness that we travel often and live without Daddy.

One of the side effects of this year has begun to intrigue me, because I never expected it: paranoia. Continue reading

I Could Spit on a Stranger

15 Aug

When I’m not careful, I dream about my future.  It’s a dangerous place to live, because I work hard to stay focused on the moment.  The future is completely unknown to me, even the very-near future, so I am careful not to imagine what it could be like. But when I’m not careful, begin to fantasize.

Usually I fantasize about the HD’s visit in a few (5) weeks, but sometimes I go farther, dreaming about life after he returns for good.

Here is what I definitely do not know, right now:

#1: When he will return.  His orders say, “not to exceed 365 days”, but many units have returned a few weeks ahead of schedule; others have been given the “honor” of serving their country beyond the originally alloted time.

#2: Where we will live.  His orders will change very quickly, assigning us to a new duty-station, wherever the Army decides.

#3: When we will have another child (could we potentially conceive while he’s home for two weeks?). Continue reading

No Two Hours Alike

24 Jun

I’m wearing headphones right now, listening to Van Morrison sing “Tupelo Honey”. It’s a little after nine o’clock tonight, and I’m hoping to go to sleep soon. The song is repeating for the first time now. Tomorrow when I get up I’ll set up a yard sale for my mother and hope to successfully get strangers to haul off the crap that has clogged her garage for seven years. Since coming to live here in April I’ve been attempting to make her home a better place, by using my youthful energy and my need to expend it.

Continue reading

Aside

One Way

18 Jun

There’s this four-hour window I live inside every day waiting for the HD to call. Between 8:00 and noon he may call. If I miss it, though — like I did today — there is no way for me to call him back.

I watched my phone “miss” the last ring of his final attempt. I held it in my hand, knowing at that moment HD was recording a voicemail. A wave of weak helplessness flooded me. He was out there, phone in hand, ready to talk, and I could do nothing. No text messages available. No email could reach him in time.
I am at the mercy of his schedule. Only in the event of an emergency could I ever call him, and my own broken heart is not emergent enough.

Maybe you think I talk to him often enough that the occasional missed call doesn’t matter? Well, I ask you, does knowing you’ll eat something tomorrow ease your hunger from missing a meal today? I’m starved for my husband, and all I have are crumbs.

He is my companion. My partner and my best friend. My lover. My roommate. My soul mate.

I don’t ache when I miss your call. You’re in the real world where the phone works both ways.