A friend of mine posted this as her status on Facebook and I was so blown away by it I wanted to share it. It brought tears to my eyes and made my nose all stuffy. So for now I dedicate it to my army wife friends. It gives us all a small window into your lives and makes me wish I could reach out and hug you all.
Dear America,
Do you remember me? I’m a military wife. The one who may or may not
have a bumper sticker, an accent and an Army Wife t-shirt. My social
security number, marriage license, driver’s license and car registration
were all issued in different states. I am a product of my environment
which means I love a Texas Longhorn burger but I still really miss my
Maine lobster. I’m the one who takes too many pictures because I know
once we leave here, we will never walk this way again.
I am also the
one who will soon be left behind to wait. The one who will cross off
365 days and turn the calendar twelve times. I am the one who will
struggle with 2am and unopened pickle jars. The one who will cry
secretly and smile bravely. I am the one who will be able to tell you
exactly what time it is in Korea and how long it takes for a letter to
come. I’m the one who will spend the next year talking to a computer
screen and sleeping on the wrong side of the
bed.
I know what
you’re thinking. It’s the same thing everyone thinks. He’ll miss
Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, our birthdays and anniversary. He’ll
miss a graduation, Easter, Super Bowl and 4th of July. Regardless how
important those things are, they are just events. You know that they are
coming and you can prepare, mentally and emotionally.
As much as
I’m dreading the events he’ll miss, I’m dreading the moments even more.
Those you cannot prepare for. They come without warning. They will be
found in the frantic Monday morning when nothing will make me smile but a
“Hi Baby” text. They will be in the long hours before dawn when I want
to reach across and find him sleeping. They will be found in the Friday
night movies I’ll want to share with him and the lazy Sunday afternoons.
They will arrive as quickly as a summer thunderstorm or the first
blooms of spring. They will be there when I realize I don’t have to buy
hot sauce for a year. When the Steelers lose (and they WILL lose) and
when the snow cone stand opens again. It will be my cold feet missing
his warm ones. It will be the silence that comes at night instead of the
steady sound of his breathing. Yes, the moments will most certainly be
the hardest.
So when you see me, remember that. It’s not the big
days that I will miss him the most. It’s the every days. Don’t ask me
about the holidays, birthdays or graduation because I’ll have a plan for
those. Ask me how I’m doing on the every day and if the tears come
please understand. It’s not every day that I’ll let them fall.
An Army Wife
