Most of you who read this know exactly how I feel right now. Most of you are my sisters-in-arms, and this post is what you already know, because you’ve felt it too. But some of you aren’t. Some of you have never loved a military man, sent him to war, and dropped to your knees in thanks when he came home.
So this one’s for you.
I’m less than 24 hours away from seeing my Jason. The dishwasher is running, the washer is going, and I’m currently rocking a green face mask. Oh, yes. This is the night before Mid-Tour. There are so many emotions feeding through my body right now that to attempt to eloquently express myself seems pretty futile. Mostly, I just feel like laying on my living room floor and giggling uncontrollably.
The last week or so, the most frequent question I’ve gotten is, “aren’t you excited?” And for the most part, my reply has been, “I’m not there yet.” Having gone down the reunion road more than a few times before, I know how I get. The moment I allow myself to slip into the mode where I’m envisioning him coming off that plane and finally getting into his arms, I’m useless. So instead of getting my lunacy on, I’ve stayed focused on whatever task was directly ahead of me until I could get to this moment. Now this moment that is close enough to shave my legs for…. 😉
My emotions have been put through the ringer, and I swear I have mid-tour-induced emotional ADD. One moment I’m trying to clamp down on the excitement just to simply function, and the next, I’m nearly in tears. I’m actually amazed that I’m kind of sticking with one theme here. My bestie and battle-buddy came over last night, and I’m pretty sure I switched subjects on her every 2 minutes or so, and that’s probably being generous. I can’t focus. Thoughts of him coming home invade my head every 5 seconds, leaving little room for any other thought or action.
So am I excited? Well, that’s a bit mild, and there’s so much more going on than that. I am ecstatic over the thought of jumping into his arms tomorrow. I am anxious to see his face, and assure myself that he’s home unharmed. I am worried that the flight will change, or he’ll miss it, like back in our last deployment. I’m feeling guilty that it’s been way too long since I had the oil changed in the van, and he’s about to know it. I’m nervous, not because of everything I didn’t accomplish, but because I know he’ll see what I’ve always known; this house doesn’t run well without him. I’m euphoric at the knowledge that we’ll get to have another first kiss. I’m relieved that for two weeks, this ache in my heart will be replaced by joy. I am already sad that he’ll be gone again in a few short weeks. Perhaps the most overwhelming is the eye-pricking tears I almost can’t contain at the thought that the boys are in for the surprise of their life tomorrow. And boys, if you ever read this, remember I warned you that you REALLY needed to clean your toy room…
Unless you’re a military wife who’s gone through this, all the words in the world can’t adequately describe it. This anticipation, this high is better than any feeling in the world. Better than para sailing over the ocean. Better than standing standing on the Eiffel Tower, or even saying “I do.” But this kind of high is only possible because we’ve felt the lows. The loneliness, the anger, the crankies, and the fear. But for me, the pinnacle of this first six months is staring me in the face, and I’m all smiles.
Tomorrow he will have been gone 165 days. 165 goodnight kisses, bedtime stories, and family dinners. He’s missed countless hugs, milestones, and secret smiles. It’s impossible to fit all of those missed moments into this two-week honeymoon, but you just watch me try.
This time tomorrow night, I’ll be asleep next to my extremely handsome, wonderful husband. I won’t even mind the snoring, because it will just remind me that he’s here. I will see our boys’ mouths drop open in shock, and I will hear them squeal with joy. Tomorrow, we will be whole again, for even just a short time. So am I excited? It’s so much more than that!
To all you girls who are on the other side of your mid-tour, you know where I’m coming from. To those who are waiting on their day, it’s coming, just hold on a little longer. And to the love of my life, baby, it’s our turn to dance. I’ll see you tomorrow… =D