Ugh.
I don't actually even know where to begin to explain the situation that is currently plaguing my mind, but I will do my best. You see, last year at this very time, an important friendship in my life was coming to a close. My friend turned into someone that I no longer recognized, and it came to a point where the drama she was adding to my life was more than I could handle with everything ELSE going on in my life at the time (see: my mom's cancer & my husband's deployment). At the time, I made the conscious decision to walk away from that situation and her.
I have not ever regretted my decision; because, I know I did what I had to do at the time for MYSELF. I have, however, missed my friend. a lot. So, I wrote her an email this October and basically said I hoped she was well, I will always care about her, and I was sorry we weren't able to be there *for each other* when we were both going through a tough time.
She did not write back. I was not surprised, but I was glad I wrote the email anyway for my own closure. Well... yesterday (two months after my initial email) I received something in my inbox from her. It was surprising how little it affected me. Her words didn't surprise me either. Basically she said that I abandoned her when she needed me and I treated her like she was a disease.. and that it was obvious that I never needed her in my life since I was doing fine in my life. and bla bla bla. *ugh.
So, I wrote back and told her that I wasn't proud of my actions, but that if I had to do it all over again, I would do the exact same thing. I said I did what I had to do at the time for myself, and that's life. I said no, she was right, I NEVER needed her, but friendship isn't about (nor should it be) need.. it's about want. I wanted her friendship in my life. I said I missed her and that it's a true tragedy in my life to have lost the person who I once considered to be my best friend. I told her she can hate me forever if she wants, that's her choice. and I hope that she has a nice christmas.
She wrote back and said, "it's ok, i'm not tripping over it. have a nice christmas" -- It was after THAT message that I got mad. angry. pissed off. If I thought it would do any good I would have called and yelled at her. Instead, I just wrote back and said "I don't understand your or your strange message." I said, "but I don't know what I expected anyway since yes, I miss the person you were but I don't think you are that person anymore, nor have you been for quite a while." I said, "You say you don't care about any of this, yet in your last email you blamed me, (and all of our other friends) for turning our backs on you -- but I want you to take a minute and remember how things really went because you were the one who turned your back on us first." I said, "I am truly sad about everything that has happened, and i am not afraid to admit it." and I said, "but what's done is done.. you're right.. and we can't change it.. so have a wonderful life."
and that.. for me.. was the final closing of the door. I'm over it. I wish she could be the person I remember her to be, but she is not. I wish she could see role that she has played. I wish she could have been there for me when I needed her to be, and I do wish I could have been there for her when she needed me. But, none of these things happened; therefore, what's done is done. We couldn't be friends again even if we both wanted it very badly. Sad, but true.
So. goodbye Holly. The Holly I knew was the person who built herself into something from nothing. I was amazed by that Holly. but, the Holly you are now is a Holly who feels the need to destroy everything good in your life. I'm so sorry that is how it is, but it is. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers and I will always miss the person you were and the friendship we had.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
It feels like home to me..
Yesterday, after a half day of chaos, sugar, and presents I closed my classroom doors for the entirety of two weeks! What a RELIEF! If anyone has earned her Christmas vacation this year, it is ME. The end of the "2007" school year was a very nice one. Monday night our school had a Candlelight Advent Ceremony in church, which was absolutely beautiful. Sitting there in that church, waving hello to all of the parents and watching my students shine in the spotlight, I couldn't help but think how very lucky I am. Yesterday after school, the teachers and staff met up with the Parish staff for a large Christmas lunch at PF Changs. Due to a shortage of seats, I ended up sitting where I never normally would, right next to the associate pastor! Being grilled by the pastor (ok, he wasn't grilling, but he was certainly curious about me!) I just kept praying that he wouldn't ask me what my parish priests' names are and "out" me for my poor attendance in my "home" parish. (oops! Note to self: New Years Resolution = stop being lazy and get your butt to church on Sundays!)
It was lovely to chat with the priest and hug goodbye all of the ladies and men that I've known now for 1.5 years. On my drive home, that feeling of "I am lucky" came floating back to me. After 3 years of "temporary-ness", feeling like I belong somewhere is priceless. That's the reason that even though the school that I work for is imperfect, and I often complain.. I probably won't be packing up my desk any time soon. I will stay at SMA because there I feel like I belong, I feel comfortable. It feels like home. This is also why, though I say I will roll with the punches no matter what, I desperately pray that Hubby be allowed to stay in SoCal for at least a few more years. I've just now settled in roots. SoCal is home to me now, and I am not yet ready to give that up.
..............
Anyway.
With my hair newly cut and dyed, my bags half-packed, and my dogs going to the kennel today, I am more than ready to say "sionara" to this home and head to my childhood home for the holidays! I'm so excited to be back East that I can hardly stand it. This Christmas IS going to be amazing. :)
It was lovely to chat with the priest and hug goodbye all of the ladies and men that I've known now for 1.5 years. On my drive home, that feeling of "I am lucky" came floating back to me. After 3 years of "temporary-ness", feeling like I belong somewhere is priceless. That's the reason that even though the school that I work for is imperfect, and I often complain.. I probably won't be packing up my desk any time soon. I will stay at SMA because there I feel like I belong, I feel comfortable. It feels like home. This is also why, though I say I will roll with the punches no matter what, I desperately pray that Hubby be allowed to stay in SoCal for at least a few more years. I've just now settled in roots. SoCal is home to me now, and I am not yet ready to give that up.
..............
Anyway.
With my hair newly cut and dyed, my bags half-packed, and my dogs going to the kennel today, I am more than ready to say "sionara" to this home and head to my childhood home for the holidays! I'm so excited to be back East that I can hardly stand it. This Christmas IS going to be amazing. :)
Friday, December 14, 2007
Christmas Past & Christmas Present
Last night I dropped my husband off at the airport for a week of fun on the East Coast with his life-long best friend before I join him for Christmas with my family in Pennsylvania. It was a strange thing, dropping him off for a week. I was sad to see him go, and though you might think that after a seven month deployment a week on my own would be no sweat, that isn't really the case. It's not the being alone part that bugs me. It's the DOING EVERYTHING alone part that is getting to me. I had a hard time agreeing to my husband's plans... not because I would miss him unbearably for the week that he was gone.. but.. because I was TIRED of doing things on my own. I've already dealt with taking my dogs to the kennel on my own, preparing the house for a long departure, and driving to the airport by myself to get on a plane. Now that my husband is finally on the same continent as me, I'd like for him to help me out with these burdens. But, alas, wanting my husband to take the dogs to the kennel with me is a poor reason not to let him enjoy a week with his best friend.. so off he went.
This Christmas I find myself more excited than usual. There is a lot to celebrate this year. Things are going really well for me as a teacher.. I have grown leaps and bounds since last year in my understanding and relationship with the students. Michael is finally home, and I know that I am so blessed to be spending the holidays with him. My nephew is getting bigger and cuter by the second, and I just absolutely cannot wait to spend time with him and let him entertain me! And, most importantly, my mom is strong and well and the Christmas of last year seems like a foggy memory these days.
Last Christmas was a tough one. My mom had told me on the phone a few weeks before that she had found a mysterious lump and was having it checked. My parents picked us up from the airport on Christmas eve, and in the car on the way home my mom told us that her suspicious lump was indeed cancer. It was a difficult thing to digest at first. Christmas was a sad and scary time. My mom was noticably upset/worried/shaken. It was good for the family to be together, and in our own way, it was a very special Christmas, one that I'm sure none of us will soon forget. The moment when reality really sunk in, though, was when a family friend who is an oncologist stopped by to talk to my mom about what to expect. The "immediate" family sat in on the talk.. (actually, in retrospect, I think that my brother chose not to be there). I was shocked when he said that because of the chemo she would lose her hair. Not that losing hair is even nearly as bad as having cancer, but I guess that physical representation of the disease struck me and helped it to really become "real". The night before Hubby and I got on the plane to fly back to San Diego, I went to bed early and cried.... and cried.... and cried... and cried.....and cried................. and cried.... (i think you get the picture). The tears just wouldn't stop coming. I'm not sure I've ever cried for so long before. I just couldn't stop. I think Hubby was a little freaked out by it because there was nothing he could do. I would seem to calm down, but any show of affection from him set me off into even bigger sobs. It's always hard for me to leave home, but last year in particular, I felt so incredibly guilty about leaving.
This year, we have my mom's restored health to celebrate. Whereas last year Christmas was a unifying, strenghtening experience for our family. This year, I hope it will be unifying in a more joyous way.
This Christmas I find myself more excited than usual. There is a lot to celebrate this year. Things are going really well for me as a teacher.. I have grown leaps and bounds since last year in my understanding and relationship with the students. Michael is finally home, and I know that I am so blessed to be spending the holidays with him. My nephew is getting bigger and cuter by the second, and I just absolutely cannot wait to spend time with him and let him entertain me! And, most importantly, my mom is strong and well and the Christmas of last year seems like a foggy memory these days.
Last Christmas was a tough one. My mom had told me on the phone a few weeks before that she had found a mysterious lump and was having it checked. My parents picked us up from the airport on Christmas eve, and in the car on the way home my mom told us that her suspicious lump was indeed cancer. It was a difficult thing to digest at first. Christmas was a sad and scary time. My mom was noticably upset/worried/shaken. It was good for the family to be together, and in our own way, it was a very special Christmas, one that I'm sure none of us will soon forget. The moment when reality really sunk in, though, was when a family friend who is an oncologist stopped by to talk to my mom about what to expect. The "immediate" family sat in on the talk.. (actually, in retrospect, I think that my brother chose not to be there). I was shocked when he said that because of the chemo she would lose her hair. Not that losing hair is even nearly as bad as having cancer, but I guess that physical representation of the disease struck me and helped it to really become "real". The night before Hubby and I got on the plane to fly back to San Diego, I went to bed early and cried.... and cried.... and cried... and cried.....and cried................. and cried.... (i think you get the picture). The tears just wouldn't stop coming. I'm not sure I've ever cried for so long before. I just couldn't stop. I think Hubby was a little freaked out by it because there was nothing he could do. I would seem to calm down, but any show of affection from him set me off into even bigger sobs. It's always hard for me to leave home, but last year in particular, I felt so incredibly guilty about leaving.
This year, we have my mom's restored health to celebrate. Whereas last year Christmas was a unifying, strenghtening experience for our family. This year, I hope it will be unifying in a more joyous way.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
stress
I believe that this week may possibly have been the most stressful week of my life.. ever. In reality, probably not, but it sure felt that way at the time. This week consisted of 1) parent/teacher conferences (always a joy), 2) the dreaded Fine Arts Performance 3) Progress Reports 4) Getting ready for an overnight retreat with my students 5) a big project coming in from both Grammar 7 and Grammar 8 students 6) A mandatory "fun" event with Hubby's squadron.. (I'm sure that you can guess that Hubby and I did not have a lot of "fun")
Let's begin with Parent/teacher conferences. In this department, I consider myself to be incredibly lucky. I've decided that I must seem too nice for any parent to give me a hard time....considering that I have yet to hear a single comlplaint from a parent that wasn't directed at another teacher. It's either that, or I'm perfect...(which as much as I'd like to believe.. I know in my heart of hearts is not true) So. Though parent/teacher conferences are time consuming and stressful (How exactly do you tell a parent that their child is failing every class and a terrible person without sounding too harsh, anyway?? I still haven't figured that one out), I managed to get out of them alive... but VERY tired. I may have set a world record by going to bed on Wednesday night at 7:00 pm. I was just THAT exhauasted.
Ah. The DREADED Fine Arts performance. Along with being a regular classroom teacher, I (the person with zero drama experience and absolutely NO CREATIVE ABILITIES) am the drama teacher at SMA. This year, a team of teachers got together and decided to re-vamp the Fine Arts department and thus music and drama converged to create a show that was my complete and utter despair for the whole of 3 months. I cannot tell you the sleepless nights that I had over this fine arts performance. There were times that I believed that if it weren't for fine arts my life would be easy breezy and carefree. But alas, amidst all else, this week was THE FINE ARTS PERFORMANCE. Somehow, someway, I managed to pull a performance out of my ass. I even somehow managed to put up a cute backdrop with the help of a couple of very eager and artistic 8th graders the day before the performance. I am certain that no one in the audience was any the wiser that that backdrop (or lack thereof) was what woke me up in panicked sweats at night.. nope.. I'm sure that no one in the audience had any idea that up until 2 minutes before I grabbed those 8th graders (the day before the performance) and put them to work, I actually had NO IDEA what I was going to do for a back drop for the performance. But, anyway, the performance was a hit. The kids did well, somehow I managed to look like I might not actually be THE worst drama teacher ever, and the Principal even told me afterwards that she wants the kids to do a repeat performance for the parents during Catholic Schools Week. That was a shocker for me. Maybe I'm not as completely uncreative and talentless as I had previously believed. Maybe I do have something going for me afterall. I can only hope that is the case :)
Progress reports, big projects in grammar 7 & grammar 8, and preparing for an overnight retreat with my students are all very boring, yet time consuming events. So, I will not bore you with the details here. Just know.. I was a chicken with my head cut off this week, and the fact that I actually managed to remember to do everything I was supposed to is nothing short of a miracle. (Thank you, God!)
Which leads me to the Mandatory Fun event with the squadron. Standing in the same room with and feigning politeness to some of these squadron people was a bit like the feeling you get when someone scratches their fingernails on a chalkboard. It makes you shudder. It was slightly painful, but mostly, I just zoned out of the experience. I shook hands, introduced myself to the people I'd yet to meet, I chit-chatted with those I already know. I even shook hands with the evil Major who ruined my husband's life. I kept myself polite, yet detached. I wasn't about to stoop to the level of fake with this man. I said, "Hi, I'm sarah" and when he said, "I think I've met you before" I said, "Maybe. I don't remember". And that was that.
I admit, I didn't actually listen to what anyone said to me that night. Inside all I could think was, "I don't care about you people. You people are no longer part of my life." Sad, but true. As soon as the formal presentation was over and I was able to zone out from listening to each person babbling on about what an amazing squadron this is(it was either zone out or roll my eyes and make evil faces.. I chose to zone out), Hubby and I said goodbye to the people we saw on our way to the door, and made our exit. I have no qualms about it. There's no reason why we should feel the need or desire to socialize with those people. We went out for appetizers and drinks with our friends (who have similar feelings towards the squadron) and had a grand old time.
And so ended my most stressful week ever. It ended on a decent note, and for that, I am thankful.
Let's begin with Parent/teacher conferences. In this department, I consider myself to be incredibly lucky. I've decided that I must seem too nice for any parent to give me a hard time....considering that I have yet to hear a single comlplaint from a parent that wasn't directed at another teacher. It's either that, or I'm perfect...(which as much as I'd like to believe.. I know in my heart of hearts is not true) So. Though parent/teacher conferences are time consuming and stressful (How exactly do you tell a parent that their child is failing every class and a terrible person without sounding too harsh, anyway?? I still haven't figured that one out), I managed to get out of them alive... but VERY tired. I may have set a world record by going to bed on Wednesday night at 7:00 pm. I was just THAT exhauasted.
Ah. The DREADED Fine Arts performance. Along with being a regular classroom teacher, I (the person with zero drama experience and absolutely NO CREATIVE ABILITIES) am the drama teacher at SMA. This year, a team of teachers got together and decided to re-vamp the Fine Arts department and thus music and drama converged to create a show that was my complete and utter despair for the whole of 3 months. I cannot tell you the sleepless nights that I had over this fine arts performance. There were times that I believed that if it weren't for fine arts my life would be easy breezy and carefree. But alas, amidst all else, this week was THE FINE ARTS PERFORMANCE. Somehow, someway, I managed to pull a performance out of my ass. I even somehow managed to put up a cute backdrop with the help of a couple of very eager and artistic 8th graders the day before the performance. I am certain that no one in the audience was any the wiser that that backdrop (or lack thereof) was what woke me up in panicked sweats at night.. nope.. I'm sure that no one in the audience had any idea that up until 2 minutes before I grabbed those 8th graders (the day before the performance) and put them to work, I actually had NO IDEA what I was going to do for a back drop for the performance. But, anyway, the performance was a hit. The kids did well, somehow I managed to look like I might not actually be THE worst drama teacher ever, and the Principal even told me afterwards that she wants the kids to do a repeat performance for the parents during Catholic Schools Week. That was a shocker for me. Maybe I'm not as completely uncreative and talentless as I had previously believed. Maybe I do have something going for me afterall. I can only hope that is the case :)
Progress reports, big projects in grammar 7 & grammar 8, and preparing for an overnight retreat with my students are all very boring, yet time consuming events. So, I will not bore you with the details here. Just know.. I was a chicken with my head cut off this week, and the fact that I actually managed to remember to do everything I was supposed to is nothing short of a miracle. (Thank you, God!)
Which leads me to the Mandatory Fun event with the squadron. Standing in the same room with and feigning politeness to some of these squadron people was a bit like the feeling you get when someone scratches their fingernails on a chalkboard. It makes you shudder. It was slightly painful, but mostly, I just zoned out of the experience. I shook hands, introduced myself to the people I'd yet to meet, I chit-chatted with those I already know. I even shook hands with the evil Major who ruined my husband's life. I kept myself polite, yet detached. I wasn't about to stoop to the level of fake with this man. I said, "Hi, I'm sarah" and when he said, "I think I've met you before" I said, "Maybe. I don't remember". And that was that.
I admit, I didn't actually listen to what anyone said to me that night. Inside all I could think was, "I don't care about you people. You people are no longer part of my life." Sad, but true. As soon as the formal presentation was over and I was able to zone out from listening to each person babbling on about what an amazing squadron this is(it was either zone out or roll my eyes and make evil faces.. I chose to zone out), Hubby and I said goodbye to the people we saw on our way to the door, and made our exit. I have no qualms about it. There's no reason why we should feel the need or desire to socialize with those people. We went out for appetizers and drinks with our friends (who have similar feelings towards the squadron) and had a grand old time.
And so ended my most stressful week ever. It ended on a decent note, and for that, I am thankful.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
the latest.
Adapting to married life again after such a long separation wasn't all applie pie and smiley faces. It was a little bit more difficult than I had previously anticipated. The first two days went on without a hitch. We were two blissful lovebirds, bushy-tailed and rosey cheeked. Then, reality set in. And... We... Argued. We argued about everything.. and anything.. that we could possibly think to argue about. It was an interesting time. We went from one extreme (perfect blissfulness) to another extreme (perfect hell) until we figured out how to meet somewhere in the middle and function as a married couple again. I don't know how honest most couples are about these things, but I can only imagine that what we experienced was very typical. You can't expect to spend 7 months living a life apart and then converge upon a perfect relationship. It is something that has to be worked for. I am proud to declare, however, that we managed to figure things out and work through our troubles. That's what makes us such a wonderful couple. :)
In other news, My husband's future in the Marine Corps is no longer a COMPLETE mystery. He spoke with his XO a few days before Thanksgiving and found out that instead of going before this FFPB board (which could result it the loss of his wings and/or an adverse fit rep - which would make advancing beyond Captain nearly impossible) he had the option of requesting an MOS (career) change. If he did this, he would a) keep his wings and b) not have to worry about receiving an adverse fit rep. So, My husband, being the intelligent person that he is, decided that the voluntary MOS change would be the best way for him to go. He found out a few days ago that his voluntary MOS change has been approved, and now he simply has to begin deciding how he would like to continue his military career. Our number one priority right now is to stay in SoCal at all costs. Luckily, there are two accessible Marine Corps bases from our house.. Miramar & Camp Pendleton. Camp Pendleton would be a little bit of a commute (30-40 minutes) ; however, it's better than having to attempt to sell our house in a housing market that has bottomed out. We are crossing our fingers and saying our prayers and just hoping for the best.
Besides all that.... I broke my toe. That's right, you heard me. I.. Broke.. My... Toe. I slipped on our wooden floor last night and took a nasty spill that left me with a broken toe. Hubby denies that it is broken; however, my response to that is, "it's not YOUR toe, how would you know if it's broken or not?" -- :O)
AND... drum roll please... The pool man finally came today and our pump is back in working order! Hallelujah!
Until next time....
In other news, My husband's future in the Marine Corps is no longer a COMPLETE mystery. He spoke with his XO a few days before Thanksgiving and found out that instead of going before this FFPB board (which could result it the loss of his wings and/or an adverse fit rep - which would make advancing beyond Captain nearly impossible) he had the option of requesting an MOS (career) change. If he did this, he would a) keep his wings and b) not have to worry about receiving an adverse fit rep. So, My husband, being the intelligent person that he is, decided that the voluntary MOS change would be the best way for him to go. He found out a few days ago that his voluntary MOS change has been approved, and now he simply has to begin deciding how he would like to continue his military career. Our number one priority right now is to stay in SoCal at all costs. Luckily, there are two accessible Marine Corps bases from our house.. Miramar & Camp Pendleton. Camp Pendleton would be a little bit of a commute (30-40 minutes) ; however, it's better than having to attempt to sell our house in a housing market that has bottomed out. We are crossing our fingers and saying our prayers and just hoping for the best.
Besides all that.... I broke my toe. That's right, you heard me. I.. Broke.. My... Toe. I slipped on our wooden floor last night and took a nasty spill that left me with a broken toe. Hubby denies that it is broken; however, my response to that is, "it's not YOUR toe, how would you know if it's broken or not?" -- :O)
AND... drum roll please... The pool man finally came today and our pump is back in working order! Hallelujah!
Until next time....
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Home at Last!
Tuesday morning at 2:00 am I woke to a phone call from my husband. He was in Ireland, on his way home. I didn't get back to sleep after that phone call; I was too busy tossing and turning with the knot in my stomach growing bigger and bigger. I made sure to keep busy all day long. Mike was predicted to arrive at 5:45 pm which meant a LONG day for me. I vacuumed my car, cleaned my car, got an oil change in my car, went grocery shopping, prepared food, and when I was finished with all of these tasks it was time to take a shower and get ready.
I followed another military wife on base to the flight terminal where the plane would be landing and was shocked when I walked into the building! There were people... hundreds of people, metal detectors, refreshments. The place was abuzz with excitement. We all stood in this large room for about 15 minutes before the doors opened and they allowed us to walk out onto the runway. Outside, there was a Marine Corps band playing patriotic tunes. People were waving American flags and Welcome Home signs.. news cameras were flashing their bright lights in people's faces, and we watched.. and waited.. for the plane to make its appearance on the scene. I saw a girl about 12 holding a sign that said "Welcome Home, Dad, you're my HERO" -- which brought a momentary wave of the possibility of breaking down into tears -- but I managed to quickly recover. There was no time to be sentimental; I was too busy watching for that damn plane!!!
When the plane finally made its appearance onto the scene, it was as if we had just spotted Superman flying in the sky. People yelled, "There it is!!" and everyone let out a loud cheer! The plane opened its doors and Marines started to pile out. I watched anxiously as I noticed one face after another that I did not recognize. Finally, I saw some of my friends' husbands walking all together and I yelled to them that there were their husbands.. and off they ran to greet them. Meanwhile, I still waited, searching each face. As each moment passed without success, I began to become a little unsure of myself, "What if I didn't recognize him?" And then, there he was. Was there anything about him that took me by surprise? Yes. His walk. I had forgotten that he moved in a way that was truly unique to only him.
It wasn't exactly how I had imagined it. I had to push through the people to get to him.. it seemed like forever after I spotted him before I was actually next to him. We didn't say anything; we just hugged, and then kissed. and then hugged again. When we finally made it back to the car, it was as if someone did a huge rewind in my life and we were back right where we started seven months ago. It's strange how seven months of my life that at times seemed so neverending and heartwrenching could be so easily forgotten. I guess it's kind of like how a mother feels after childbirth. Childbirth is painful and difficult, but when the mother sees her baby all thoughts of pain are washed away and all she sees is her beautiful baby. That's how it was with me. All that crap that went on over those seven months, all the tears that I shed, all those moments of heartache and loneliness were gone. erased. forgotten. And what was left was my husband and me driving home in our Jeep talking, laughing. Completely in sinc, completely comfortable, completely happy. :)
I followed another military wife on base to the flight terminal where the plane would be landing and was shocked when I walked into the building! There were people... hundreds of people, metal detectors, refreshments. The place was abuzz with excitement. We all stood in this large room for about 15 minutes before the doors opened and they allowed us to walk out onto the runway. Outside, there was a Marine Corps band playing patriotic tunes. People were waving American flags and Welcome Home signs.. news cameras were flashing their bright lights in people's faces, and we watched.. and waited.. for the plane to make its appearance on the scene. I saw a girl about 12 holding a sign that said "Welcome Home, Dad, you're my HERO" -- which brought a momentary wave of the possibility of breaking down into tears -- but I managed to quickly recover. There was no time to be sentimental; I was too busy watching for that damn plane!!!
When the plane finally made its appearance onto the scene, it was as if we had just spotted Superman flying in the sky. People yelled, "There it is!!" and everyone let out a loud cheer! The plane opened its doors and Marines started to pile out. I watched anxiously as I noticed one face after another that I did not recognize. Finally, I saw some of my friends' husbands walking all together and I yelled to them that there were their husbands.. and off they ran to greet them. Meanwhile, I still waited, searching each face. As each moment passed without success, I began to become a little unsure of myself, "What if I didn't recognize him?" And then, there he was. Was there anything about him that took me by surprise? Yes. His walk. I had forgotten that he moved in a way that was truly unique to only him.
It wasn't exactly how I had imagined it. I had to push through the people to get to him.. it seemed like forever after I spotted him before I was actually next to him. We didn't say anything; we just hugged, and then kissed. and then hugged again. When we finally made it back to the car, it was as if someone did a huge rewind in my life and we were back right where we started seven months ago. It's strange how seven months of my life that at times seemed so neverending and heartwrenching could be so easily forgotten. I guess it's kind of like how a mother feels after childbirth. Childbirth is painful and difficult, but when the mother sees her baby all thoughts of pain are washed away and all she sees is her beautiful baby. That's how it was with me. All that crap that went on over those seven months, all the tears that I shed, all those moments of heartache and loneliness were gone. erased. forgotten. And what was left was my husband and me driving home in our Jeep talking, laughing. Completely in sinc, completely comfortable, completely happy. :)
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Counting Down
It seems as though I blinked my eyes and found myself here. Where is here? Here is the ability to count the HOURS until my reunion with my husband. As with all things in my life lately, this, too, seems surreal. I don't yet fully believe that I will be hugging him in the near future.. but there is certainly a part of me that believes it. Or, atleast, believes something is going to be happening in the near future. I know this because I have this constant anxious knot in the pit of my stomach. This is the knot that keeps me from sleeping in in the morning (boo!).
I was talking to a fellow wife today, and she was telling me the woes of all the different wives rushing around to prepare for the homecoming. And, I said, "We've had 7 months to prepare for this day, yet somehow it managed to sneak up on us anyway." The truth of it is that it was the fires. Time sped by and life picked up and before I knew it I was receiving a call from my husband telling me he had officially left Iraqi soil. If I think about that too long and too hard, I'm sure to start crying. But, I don't seem to have time for tears at the moment.. so I will just rejoice in the knowledge that he will be home with me soon.
Life is a crazy thing. Seven months at times seemed neverending. But, now, looking back, it doesn't seem that seven months could possibly have passed since I hugged him goodbye in April.
Going into this deployment, I was most afraid of living this life alone. And while it certainly has been no picnic, I have found that strength that I hoped I would. I believe I have changed.. and grown.. a great deal over these months. I believe Hubby has as well. For the past 6 years (and then some) we have done all of our growing together. This was an interesting time where we did that growing apart. We both faced challenges of great magnitude that we were forced to deal with on our own terms. When he comes home, I have no doubt that we will easily pick up where we left off and continue our growing together once more.
I wonder if I will cry when I hug him for the first time. I wonder if there will be anything about him that I had briefly forgotten, anything that will take me by surprise at first. I wonder if he will look different to me.. I wonder if he will sound different.. I wonder if there will be a new word that he uses often... or a new joke that he likes to laugh about. I wonder if we will have so many things to say that we won't know where to begin.. I wonder if we will just automatically fall into our normal relationship or if things will be "polite" for a little while. I wonder so many things. I am so filled with excitement and anxiousness. I am ready for this homecoming though, so very ready.
So what if the pool is still black, the grass needs mowed, and the cars need washed. I have a feeling that there could be trash all over the floor and dirty laundry hanging from the lights and Hubby wouldn't even notice. He will be so excited to be back at his home with his dogs and his wife that nothing else will matter. :O)
I was talking to a fellow wife today, and she was telling me the woes of all the different wives rushing around to prepare for the homecoming. And, I said, "We've had 7 months to prepare for this day, yet somehow it managed to sneak up on us anyway." The truth of it is that it was the fires. Time sped by and life picked up and before I knew it I was receiving a call from my husband telling me he had officially left Iraqi soil. If I think about that too long and too hard, I'm sure to start crying. But, I don't seem to have time for tears at the moment.. so I will just rejoice in the knowledge that he will be home with me soon.
Life is a crazy thing. Seven months at times seemed neverending. But, now, looking back, it doesn't seem that seven months could possibly have passed since I hugged him goodbye in April.
Going into this deployment, I was most afraid of living this life alone. And while it certainly has been no picnic, I have found that strength that I hoped I would. I believe I have changed.. and grown.. a great deal over these months. I believe Hubby has as well. For the past 6 years (and then some) we have done all of our growing together. This was an interesting time where we did that growing apart. We both faced challenges of great magnitude that we were forced to deal with on our own terms. When he comes home, I have no doubt that we will easily pick up where we left off and continue our growing together once more.
I wonder if I will cry when I hug him for the first time. I wonder if there will be anything about him that I had briefly forgotten, anything that will take me by surprise at first. I wonder if he will look different to me.. I wonder if he will sound different.. I wonder if there will be a new word that he uses often... or a new joke that he likes to laugh about. I wonder if we will have so many things to say that we won't know where to begin.. I wonder if we will just automatically fall into our normal relationship or if things will be "polite" for a little while. I wonder so many things. I am so filled with excitement and anxiousness. I am ready for this homecoming though, so very ready.
So what if the pool is still black, the grass needs mowed, and the cars need washed. I have a feeling that there could be trash all over the floor and dirty laundry hanging from the lights and Hubby wouldn't even notice. He will be so excited to be back at his home with his dogs and his wife that nothing else will matter. :O)
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