So I came to the conclusion that I’m a bit spoiled. I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing, entirely.

I am incredibly lucky that I am married to a sweet, considerate, thoughtful, romantic guy. I have a lot more adjectives, but I don’t want to appear to be bragging. Brooks is what he is. I’m just fortunate to be on the receiving end of his love and affection. But I digress.

There is something about hearing Brooks’s voice on the phone that seems to bridge the distance that physically separates us. If I close my eyes long enough when we’re talking I can even convince myself, somewhat anyway, that he’s merely down the road at work.

From deployment number one Brooks has always been amazing at communicating with me. He hates, detests even, writing me or anyone, really. So when he does drop something in the mail, or even emails me something sweet, I truly treasure it because I know what it means for him to have done that.

The first deployment Brooks would weather long waits in line just to talk to me for a few minutes. I would answer the phone and instantly picture him in my mind’s eye waiting in a perpetually long line and my heart would skip a beat at the thought that he’d endured that for me. Well, for him too, but you all get my gist.

That first deployment, after they moved into Iraq at the beginning of the war, I got a phone call from a man with a heavy accent. I was pregnant and beside myself. There was no way to communicate at that point: no mail, no phones, no internet… nothing. And here Brooks had written my information down and passed it along to embedded journalists hoping they’d call me and tell me that he was okay. So of course, when I received that phone call I about had a heart attack. I literally had to sit down; I felt sick. I thought my beau had been taken hostage and I was getting some crazy phone call from his captors. True story. Nope, not so much. Just a kind reporter who used his satellite phone to tell me that he’d met my husband who had asked him to call me if he could. And so he did. He told me, interestingly enough, the one thing I wanted to hear the most: that he looked well fed. That was important to me for some reason.

So today, Brooks wasn’t able to call me like he usually does. He never tells me about work. I couldn’t tell you who his soldiers are or who most of the people that he works with are. Brooks leaves all that at work. I’m okay with that. If he tells me things they are roundabout, and usually contain acronyms or other words I’m unfamiliar with so I just listen to his voice and tune out the meaning. True story. But Brooks did ask his friend to shoot me a message. Which he graciously did.And in moments like those I truly feel blessed beyond measure. And of course, I miss him fiercely too. Pointedly so.

I’m finally able to count down the days until he comes home. And for some reason it just makes me cry. I am so incredibly grateful he’ll be home sooner than anticipated, I’m just joy filled to the brim. And can’t help from tearing up. I know it’s not the end of the journey yet, in this chapter of our lives, but I’m feeling grateful that we’ve made it this far through this deployment so well. And I’m just ready to live my day to day with him, by our side: no long distance phone calls or unrealiable internet or endless missing. Home will be home, finally. And that will be the best day yet.

 

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