there’s no place like here


I’d be lying if I said the past week has been a roll in the daisy field. Actually, it was more like prying a burnt egg off the pan with a spatula. I was the egg. I was also the spatula. Sometimes when there’s no one around to give you a kick in the pants, you gotta do it yourself. I think I’m upright again.

I sent myself on a serious guilt trip last week over the desolation of sending Caleb back to Iraq. Like two weeks was my imaginary time limit for getting my heart and head back together and moving forward again, and anything beyond that was just me being a pansy. Except that sending him back after R&R was about ten times harder than when he left for Iraq the first time. And it took a little more to remind myself that it’s okay for me to be not okay with not having him here.

The real tragedy is when I get so caught up in the dirty floor of being alone that I forget how blessed I am to miss my husband like I do. He is loved to pieces in this household, so yeah, sometimes this deployment is devastating to me, and to the boys, and to Caleb. I waited six months before I gave up on the whole “It gets easier after a while” notion. Truthfully, I don’t think it ever will for us. But why would I want it to? If it became easier to be without my husband, that would be the real tragedy.

So last week I spent a lot of time just letting go and being thankful for the place called here. I listened to music I hadn’t heard in forever. I stayed up all night reading a book that I couldn’t put down. I let the boys talk me into making a meal off the chocolate chip ice cream. We made a trip to Walmart just to spend an hour in the toy department. I informed two strangers that my two-year-old is in fact a little boy. I resolved to cut Jon’s hair. Then I changed my mind. During this particular trip to Walmart we also discovered pretzel M&Ms. Life is forever changed.

I also did a lot of baking. One day I used six sticks of butter in three recipes. The next day I attempted a cinnamon bread that didn’t rise. It came out of the oven quite flat. It also tasted fantastic. I know because I ate half the loaf while watching two episodes of Band of Brothers and snuggling with a hedgehog. That’s a tricky business, by the way. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have a fluffy animal again. Next deployment I’m asking for a dog.


Marian Frizzell said…
I remember the last two months saying almost every day "I thought this was going to get easier". I think while in some ways you get used to it, it never really gets easier. And yes, to the comfort food.