Friday, March 2, 2012


Spring is here. 

Spring daffodil's on our table

  This morning a grumbling thunderstorm woke me up. I crawled out of bed and grumbled along with it as I walked down the hall and into the living room to let Scout out. As I opened the door a wall of damp, sweet musty spring air floated around me into the house. It immediately changed my dark morning mood. I couldn't help but let a small smile slide over my lips, as though someone had left a sweet surprise on my doorstep. I felt a little lighter, refreshed, new, calm, and clean. On the way home from work this whole week, I've driven home in a blissful state by rolling my windows down. I picked daffodil's from my front yard to enjoy while eating dinner. After dinner on my walk with Scout, the neighborhood was buzzing for the first time. The sun was shining, the skies were blue. Kids were playing basketball and riding bikes, dads were tinkering in the garage, moms were screaming at their kids to not go so far; it was great! People were alive again! They weren't forced to stay holed up in front of the bland living room TV. The grey wash of winter has melted. Blinds of windows were pried open like rusty hinges. I saw a robin for the first time, and noticed small pale green buds dabbing each tree branch. Newborn weeds were starting to push through the cement cracks of the sidewalk. I've shrieked with excitement every evening when the sun seems to stretch out the day, by lingering just a few minutes longer. 

Spring intoxicates people like a good perfume. But seeing as I don't wear perfume, that might be a bad analogy for me to use properly. Spring intoxicates me like the smell of peeling back the sheets and climbing into a freshly made bed, or the smell of when you open a box of black tea for the first time, having a fully clean, and organized house, or Cascade. You always take a moment to inhale deeply and slowly. (Except with Cascade, promise!)

This year I want to have the spring bug. I want to become hopelessly hyper, listen to the birds chirp, and take my shoes off and walk in the cool, damp grass. It's become increasingly difficult to resist it's welcoming charm. I've tried to ignore spring this year and push it away. Because this year spring means nothing good to me.

Spring means pouring over detailed packing lists. Spring means begrudgingly spending money on unwanted boots, bags, knives, and gear. Spring brings training. Spring brings stress. Spring brings tears. Spring brings one less night together. Spring brings silent dinners and melancholy air. Spring brings the unknown. Spring brings worry. Spring brings a simmering panic. Spring means planning to not to plan. Spring means standing in a gravel parking lot alone. Spring brings duty. Spring brings war. Spring brings goodbyes.

 Each sweet songbird chirping sounds like a crow. Blooming trees are tinged with bitter flower buds. Even the soft breeze feels like it might be trying to knock me down. The good feeling of spring is being smothered by the grasp that tightens around my chest. Everyday it slowly clenches tighter and higher. This is how I feel about the "D word." It's like saying You-Know-Who's name out loud...Voldemort...Deployment...they both have the same ring to me, and general feelings of animosity, angst, and affliction.

As much as deployments suck, they don't last for forever. (Although it might seem like it sometimes) Honestly Evan and I are really good at the goodbye thing. Almost too good in my opinion. We love being together and work great together, but we aren't the kind of couple that need each other to function. This summer I'm so excited to be able to visit my family and friends all around the US. What other wife gets the opportunity to live the semi-single life again? I know this might sound like I'm being heartless, but I promise I miss him every single day that he is gone. AND I probably worry enough to poop a cow, but at some point you just have to realize its part of the job, it's going to happen. The day he steps off that plane to come home is unlike any other feeling I will ever experience. So why not just take the bad as bad, the good as great, and remember to be thankful for every single minute you have together while you can.

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