After a three week hiatus, My Husband's unit is back in the field (this makes all of May, June and half of July away from home). Overnight stays, no phone calls, the whole shebang.
I actually got to see him for lunch today...he came home to eat and shower after an interview with a General (he's up for the position of an aide). I haven't spoken to him in three days so I thought it would be nice to catch up a little.
My Husband was very distracted and tired. It's hard to talk to him when he's like this, since I feel like I'm burdening him with the details of my day.
I feel stupid even telling you this, but here's my example:
I've always secretly wanted to learn to sing. My older sister had flute lessons and my younger sister had piano lessons, but my parents were afraid music lessons of any kind for me would encourage me in my "impractical aspirations" to be an actor. So now that I'm out of my parents' house, I've been researching voice coaches and chose one in the neighborhood to work with.
It's exceptionally nerve-wracking for me...I have zero confidence in my voice and I've been regularly told I'm tone deaf. Plus, this is something I really care about, you know, so I want to be good at it. I was a wreck.
But my lesson went really well and I like my teacher a lot. I told My Husband all about it and showed him my "homework," a song she wants me to learn. As I sat at the table, singing it under my breath and trying to figure out how to read the music, My Husband shushed me. Put his finger to his lips and shushed me like I was a toddler in time-out.
He was on the phone with his Commanding Officer (CO) and instead of moving away from me, he decided I should be the one to be quiet.
Then he kissed me and went back to work.
And it's so stupid, I know. I mean, the man is trying to work, dammit. He's in the field all the time, he's tired and he's filthy and he's stressed.
But I feel insignificant. I feel invisible.
I wonder why it's harder to deal with his absences when he's home than when he's deployed. When he's overseas, he depends so much on seeing me and hearing about the inane details of my inane life I feel really...necessary. But here it's like being teased. He's home but he's never really home...he's sleeping or decompressing or thinking about work. So I can see him but I can never really reach him.
I mean, My Husband doesn't even read this blog.
So what do I do? I go to the shelter and walk the dogs. I read. I watch TV. I reset the wireless Internet after thunderstorms. I send Sympathy cards. I shop for groceries. I go to the gym. I try to focus on myself, but I didn't fall and love and get married to focus on myself.
Showing posts with label army wife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label army wife. Show all posts
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
A Short Story
And now, a short story:
Generally speaking, Dale James avoided the PX the day after payday. Fighting the crowds, the baby carriages and the wayward carts was a mistake most army wives only made once. But with FRG co-leadership thrust into her hands just days before, Dale had no choice but to brave the post-paycheck multitude to pick up some necessities for the next meeting.
She was poring over printer ink prices when she heard the sharp, hushed tones that signaled the beginnings of a public argument. Turning slightly, she was surprised to see Specialist Forrest, one of her husband’s soldiers. As a lieutenant’s wife, Dale made an effort to learn the faces and names of everyone in Charlie Troop. Forrest’s cart butted up against that of a woman Dale didn’t know, pinning her into the office supply aisle.
The stranger was covered from head to toe in swaths of some kind of silky fabric patterned with red and gold flowers. Her red headscarf was pulled low on her forehead, almost to her eyebrows, so that not a hair peeked under its hem. Her eyes darted from the tired tile floor to Forrest’s face, whose breathless voice was starting to become loud enough to hear from where Dale stood.
“…that you’d even show yourself anywhere on post with that, that thing, on your head! I'm so tired of this shit. How dare you? How dare you come into our store, into our country, looking just like the fuckers that are trying to blow us up?”
Clenching her jaw, Dale pushed her own cart toward the fray and interrupted brightly, “Mr. Forrest, how are you?”
Whirling, Forrest scrutinized the intruder, “Oh, Mrs. James. Hi.”
“Now, I know that wasn’t you I heard using such foul language in a place crawling with kids. It must have been someone in the next aisle.”
Forrest colored slightly at being addressed so by the platoon leader’s wife. “I was just…I was…”
Dale interrupted, “No, of course it wasn’t you. You’ve got two young kids of your own, right? And I know you wouldn’t use words like that in front of someone else’s little ones. Speaking of, I’m sure you need to get right back to them. I’ll see you at the FRG meeting on Friday evening, won’t I?”
With a fierce look to the woman in the headscarf, Forrest mumbled a reply and shoved his cart quickly away. Her mouth set in a firm line, Dale watched the fuming young man disappear behind a display.
“I’m sorry about that.”
The stranger turned to Dale. “It’s the same almost every time we PCS. People call us traitors, call us spies. My son gets pushed down on the playground. My daughter cries about the time she will have to cover her hair. My husband and I were born here. We are Americans. And we are Muslim. It appears we can’t truly be both at once.”
Tilting her head slightly, she continued, “But you apologize for words that were spewed all over me by someone else. Why?”
“Do you hate the people who take your faith in God and twist it into a weapon for their own ends?” Dale replied.
“Yes,” the woman said, “It’s one of the reasons my husband enlisted.”
“I hate those who take my skin color and stretch it like a mask over the face of bigotry, claiming to represent an America that I wouldn’t want my husband defending.”
“What is your name?” the woman asked.
“Dale.”
“I’m Selah.”
“Hello, Selah.”
“Hello, Dale. And so, both of us seek to atone for the sins of strangers. We feel guilty for their thoughts and responsible for their actions. How strange.”
Dale looked into Selah’s eyes and said quietly, “We are women, after all.”
Generally speaking, Dale James avoided the PX the day after payday. Fighting the crowds, the baby carriages and the wayward carts was a mistake most army wives only made once. But with FRG co-leadership thrust into her hands just days before, Dale had no choice but to brave the post-paycheck multitude to pick up some necessities for the next meeting.
She was poring over printer ink prices when she heard the sharp, hushed tones that signaled the beginnings of a public argument. Turning slightly, she was surprised to see Specialist Forrest, one of her husband’s soldiers. As a lieutenant’s wife, Dale made an effort to learn the faces and names of everyone in Charlie Troop. Forrest’s cart butted up against that of a woman Dale didn’t know, pinning her into the office supply aisle.
The stranger was covered from head to toe in swaths of some kind of silky fabric patterned with red and gold flowers. Her red headscarf was pulled low on her forehead, almost to her eyebrows, so that not a hair peeked under its hem. Her eyes darted from the tired tile floor to Forrest’s face, whose breathless voice was starting to become loud enough to hear from where Dale stood.
“…that you’d even show yourself anywhere on post with that, that thing, on your head! I'm so tired of this shit. How dare you? How dare you come into our store, into our country, looking just like the fuckers that are trying to blow us up?”
Clenching her jaw, Dale pushed her own cart toward the fray and interrupted brightly, “Mr. Forrest, how are you?”
Whirling, Forrest scrutinized the intruder, “Oh, Mrs. James. Hi.”
“Now, I know that wasn’t you I heard using such foul language in a place crawling with kids. It must have been someone in the next aisle.”
Forrest colored slightly at being addressed so by the platoon leader’s wife. “I was just…I was…”
Dale interrupted, “No, of course it wasn’t you. You’ve got two young kids of your own, right? And I know you wouldn’t use words like that in front of someone else’s little ones. Speaking of, I’m sure you need to get right back to them. I’ll see you at the FRG meeting on Friday evening, won’t I?”
With a fierce look to the woman in the headscarf, Forrest mumbled a reply and shoved his cart quickly away. Her mouth set in a firm line, Dale watched the fuming young man disappear behind a display.
“I’m sorry about that.”
The stranger turned to Dale. “It’s the same almost every time we PCS. People call us traitors, call us spies. My son gets pushed down on the playground. My daughter cries about the time she will have to cover her hair. My husband and I were born here. We are Americans. And we are Muslim. It appears we can’t truly be both at once.”
Tilting her head slightly, she continued, “But you apologize for words that were spewed all over me by someone else. Why?”
“Do you hate the people who take your faith in God and twist it into a weapon for their own ends?” Dale replied.
“Yes,” the woman said, “It’s one of the reasons my husband enlisted.”
“I hate those who take my skin color and stretch it like a mask over the face of bigotry, claiming to represent an America that I wouldn’t want my husband defending.”
“What is your name?” the woman asked.
“Dale.”
“I’m Selah.”
“Hello, Selah.”
“Hello, Dale. And so, both of us seek to atone for the sins of strangers. We feel guilty for their thoughts and responsible for their actions. How strange.”
Dale looked into Selah’s eyes and said quietly, “We are women, after all.”
Monday, June 6, 2011
Clean Freak
When My Husband is about to leave for extended periods of time I get slightly psycho about cleaning. I never really understood why...I assumed it's about controlling something to make me feel better about the fact I can't control his time away from home.
This morning I figured out the real reason.
My Husband is gone for the next few days...overnight in the field doing training exercises. He left this morning about 4:30am, kissing me goodbye in the dark of our bedroom while I was still half asleep.
When I came home from my shift at the shelter a few hours later, the first thing I saw walking through the door were his running shoes...tossed at the base of the couch where he left them yesterday after returning from his track workout.
I can't really put into words the feeling of seeing something he touched a few hours ago and knowing he won't touch it again for days. It's just this huge reminder that he's gone and he won't be back for awhile.
This, of course, makes me think about how I would feel seeing those running shoes and knowing he'll never touch them again because he's dead.
Do all soldier's wives have death in the forefront of their minds like I do, or does my depression predispose me to dark thoughts like these?
So before he leaves I clean like a maniac so that everything is in its proper place...and most importantly, anything that belongs to My Husband is tucked safely out of sight until he returns and has some use for it. I stow away the physical reminders of his absence the way I ignore the truth of the dangerous nature of his job. Until I have a weak moment and those dismal thoughts, always hovering somewhere just out of consciousness, strike home.
I think I'll go to the gym and tire myself out so much that I can't think anymore.
This morning I figured out the real reason.
My Husband is gone for the next few days...overnight in the field doing training exercises. He left this morning about 4:30am, kissing me goodbye in the dark of our bedroom while I was still half asleep.
When I came home from my shift at the shelter a few hours later, the first thing I saw walking through the door were his running shoes...tossed at the base of the couch where he left them yesterday after returning from his track workout.
I can't really put into words the feeling of seeing something he touched a few hours ago and knowing he won't touch it again for days. It's just this huge reminder that he's gone and he won't be back for awhile.
This, of course, makes me think about how I would feel seeing those running shoes and knowing he'll never touch them again because he's dead.
Do all soldier's wives have death in the forefront of their minds like I do, or does my depression predispose me to dark thoughts like these?
So before he leaves I clean like a maniac so that everything is in its proper place...and most importantly, anything that belongs to My Husband is tucked safely out of sight until he returns and has some use for it. I stow away the physical reminders of his absence the way I ignore the truth of the dangerous nature of his job. Until I have a weak moment and those dismal thoughts, always hovering somewhere just out of consciousness, strike home.
I think I'll go to the gym and tire myself out so much that I can't think anymore.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Osama bin Laden is Still Dead
Buoy and I are exhausted. Last night while perusing the Internet about 9pm Central Time, I read on my homepage (CNN.com) the president was going to make a very important announcement from the White House in about a half an hour.
Now, any Army wife will tell you when the president makes an unscheduled announcement late night on a Sunday, it's usually a bad thing. Well, it may not be a "bad" thing, but it's definitely something that directly affects you. My Husband and I waited patiently for the president's speech and we speculated what this "dramatic national security event having nothing to do with Libya," as Wolf Blitzer said, could be. I thought Joe Biden died and that's why so many people had to be notified before Mr. Obama could come on the air.
As the specified time for the announcement came and went, the producers at CNN decided to break the news the president would later elaborate on...Osama bin Laden was dead. A group of special ops and/or Navy SEALS (I've heard both) entered the mansion where he's been hiding for what may have been years and shot it up for about 40 minutes. A woman attempted to shield bin Laden and was shot. His 19-year-old-son was shot. Apparently the soldiers offered bin Laden a chance to surrender; he refused and opened fire with an automatic weapon (this I'm not entirely sure of...I wouldn't fault the soldiers for shooting an unarmed fugitive, but I know why they're saying it if it's not true). The soldiers shot him at least once in the head.
They recovered his body after another woman at the compound concurred it was bin Laden. Taking it to a US ship, they proceeded to positively confirm his identity with DNA (Huh. Kinda wish police stations had that kind of technology for rape kits). Osama bin Laden was then given a "proper Muslim burial at sea." I don't know about that part either, but at this point I'm pleased enough with the success of the mission and the lack of American casualties that I don't care about white lies like the government keeping a terrorist's body.
I wept with relief as I watched people gather in front of the White House to celebrate. I texted almost everyone in my phone contacts and made My Husband call his mom. I wanted to shout the news from our balcony; I wanted to knock on every door in the building. I like the fact that so many of my peers heard the news first from me. It stems from some journalistic spark still burning inside me, I guess.
And so the conversation turns to what will come next. I'm sure terrorism will continue...in fact I think it will get worse before it gets better. But considering the amount of information the soldiers recovered from the compound (if it was safe enough to hide bin Laden just think about the records kept there as well) and the rage stemming from the murder of their leader, I hope people will get sloppy enough to get caught.
I'm trying not to get too excited, but this could mean the end of our deployments. No Afghanistan...please God, no Afghanistan.
But life continues. My Husband left about 3am for a week of overnight field exercises. May and June are full of field exercises for us. He'll have weekends off, for what that's worth.
We stayed up all night last night watching the coverage of bin Laden's death. The celebrations reminded me of some of the video from September 11 when Islamic fundamentalists passed out candy in the streets, danced, sang and shouted with joy at our destruction. Life is very strange right about now.
So Buoy and I spent today schlepping around after I got home from my shift at the shelter, attempting to recover from an exceptionally emotional weekend. I've never cried so much about complete strangers, both good and evil events, in my entire life.
Now, any Army wife will tell you when the president makes an unscheduled announcement late night on a Sunday, it's usually a bad thing. Well, it may not be a "bad" thing, but it's definitely something that directly affects you. My Husband and I waited patiently for the president's speech and we speculated what this "dramatic national security event having nothing to do with Libya," as Wolf Blitzer said, could be. I thought Joe Biden died and that's why so many people had to be notified before Mr. Obama could come on the air.
As the specified time for the announcement came and went, the producers at CNN decided to break the news the president would later elaborate on...Osama bin Laden was dead. A group of special ops and/or Navy SEALS (I've heard both) entered the mansion where he's been hiding for what may have been years and shot it up for about 40 minutes. A woman attempted to shield bin Laden and was shot. His 19-year-old-son was shot. Apparently the soldiers offered bin Laden a chance to surrender; he refused and opened fire with an automatic weapon (this I'm not entirely sure of...I wouldn't fault the soldiers for shooting an unarmed fugitive, but I know why they're saying it if it's not true). The soldiers shot him at least once in the head.
They recovered his body after another woman at the compound concurred it was bin Laden. Taking it to a US ship, they proceeded to positively confirm his identity with DNA (Huh. Kinda wish police stations had that kind of technology for rape kits). Osama bin Laden was then given a "proper Muslim burial at sea." I don't know about that part either, but at this point I'm pleased enough with the success of the mission and the lack of American casualties that I don't care about white lies like the government keeping a terrorist's body.
I wept with relief as I watched people gather in front of the White House to celebrate. I texted almost everyone in my phone contacts and made My Husband call his mom. I wanted to shout the news from our balcony; I wanted to knock on every door in the building. I like the fact that so many of my peers heard the news first from me. It stems from some journalistic spark still burning inside me, I guess.
And so the conversation turns to what will come next. I'm sure terrorism will continue...in fact I think it will get worse before it gets better. But considering the amount of information the soldiers recovered from the compound (if it was safe enough to hide bin Laden just think about the records kept there as well) and the rage stemming from the murder of their leader, I hope people will get sloppy enough to get caught.
I'm trying not to get too excited, but this could mean the end of our deployments. No Afghanistan...please God, no Afghanistan.
But life continues. My Husband left about 3am for a week of overnight field exercises. May and June are full of field exercises for us. He'll have weekends off, for what that's worth.
We stayed up all night last night watching the coverage of bin Laden's death. The celebrations reminded me of some of the video from September 11 when Islamic fundamentalists passed out candy in the streets, danced, sang and shouted with joy at our destruction. Life is very strange right about now.
So Buoy and I spent today schlepping around after I got home from my shift at the shelter, attempting to recover from an exceptionally emotional weekend. I've never cried so much about complete strangers, both good and evil events, in my entire life.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Baby Talk Part Deux: A Decision
On Saturday My Husband ran in an annual St. Patrick's Day 10K here in town. He placed 45th out of about 1500 people. In case you couldn't tell, he's a runner...track & field all through high school and college.
Afterward he was feeling pretty sore so we spent the rest of the evening at home relaxing. Eventually our conversation turned to starting a family, and we actually made a decision.
I'm going off birth control in April, May, June and possibly July. If we get pregnant, we get pregnant. If we don't, then I'm going back on birth control.
We came to this conclusion after My Husband's superiors informed him his squad is more than likely deploying to Afghanistan in April 2012. July 2011 is nine months from April 2012, so that was the stop marker we decided on. He and I both would rather not my due date be right around the time he's scheduled to go overseas.
We also discussed waiting until his five year contract with the army is up...but he wants to make it to Company Commander, which is probably a seven year stint. My Husband told me he didn't want to wait that long to start a family. Sidenote: I know it's all the hormones flying around in my brain after thousands of years of evolution, but I can think of only a few things sexier than the man you love telling you he wants to have children with you.
I suggested we look at the approximate timeline for the next few years. I'm quite the control freak and I would probably plan this out until Judgement Day. My Husband, wisely, pointed out the futility of this...we're an Army family. You never really know what's coming, and if we attempted to map out every detail based on a "perfect" scenario we'd go insane. I told him I don't know if I could leave such a major decision in God's hands.
My Husband said, "Lark, it's already in God's hands. You're only accepting what's already true."
His serenity amazes me sometimes.
I asked him if he was prepared to miss our baby's "firsts": rolling over, talking, walking. He told me it would hurt but it was worth it to know we had a family of our own. Afghanistan, of course, is a completely different deployment than Iraq. He may shut himself off emotionally the entire year in order to deal with it, which will prevent him from pining for his wife and child.
I told him I would only agree to this if he acknowledged that if I thought our little family wasn't "meshing" when he returned, we'd go to counselling immediately. He consented. So this is where we're at. I feel like I've just chosen a college...I'm excited and terrified and can't wait to begin but desperately want everything to stay exactly the same.
PROS/CONS of Our Decision:
PROS:
1. Having a baby with the love of my life!
2. Having a baby at a young enough age where the problems (hopefully) are minimal.
3. Pregnancy at a time where my husband can be there for me.
4. Possibly having a newborn while he's home as well.
5. Getting to be a mom.
6. Getting everyone's attention almost all the time.
7. Above deserves two spots. I love attention.
8. Focusing on my own health and well-being because I'm focusing on the baby's.
9. Hormones making me beautiful (hopefully).
10. Not being fat pregnant through the heat of summer.
11. A due date in the winter/early spring with a good chunk of time to lose pounds before summer.
12. Having people do things for me because of the belly.
13. Maybe not even getting pregnant at all.
CONS:
1. OH. MY. GOD. I'm gonna be a mom.
2. My Husband possibly missing all our baby's firsts.
3. Being alone with a newborn.
4. Having a newborn while My Husband's deployed...can't wallow like I did last round.
5. Oh, the responsibility...
6. Dealing with My Husband's mom for 12 months. Alone. "No, Mom, I don't think you should move in with me to 'help out.'"
7. Being the only one of my friends/sisters with a child. Talk about being a guinea pig.
There are more PROS than CONS and all the PROS are big and most of the CONS are nitty-gritty. Plus, the idea is that if we do get pregnant in the next few months, it means that God knows I can handle it. If I can just keep reminding myself of that...
Stay tuned. Things in my life are getting serious.
Afterward he was feeling pretty sore so we spent the rest of the evening at home relaxing. Eventually our conversation turned to starting a family, and we actually made a decision.
I'm going off birth control in April, May, June and possibly July. If we get pregnant, we get pregnant. If we don't, then I'm going back on birth control.
We came to this conclusion after My Husband's superiors informed him his squad is more than likely deploying to Afghanistan in April 2012. July 2011 is nine months from April 2012, so that was the stop marker we decided on. He and I both would rather not my due date be right around the time he's scheduled to go overseas.
We also discussed waiting until his five year contract with the army is up...but he wants to make it to Company Commander, which is probably a seven year stint. My Husband told me he didn't want to wait that long to start a family. Sidenote: I know it's all the hormones flying around in my brain after thousands of years of evolution, but I can think of only a few things sexier than the man you love telling you he wants to have children with you.
I suggested we look at the approximate timeline for the next few years. I'm quite the control freak and I would probably plan this out until Judgement Day. My Husband, wisely, pointed out the futility of this...we're an Army family. You never really know what's coming, and if we attempted to map out every detail based on a "perfect" scenario we'd go insane. I told him I don't know if I could leave such a major decision in God's hands.
My Husband said, "Lark, it's already in God's hands. You're only accepting what's already true."
His serenity amazes me sometimes.
I asked him if he was prepared to miss our baby's "firsts": rolling over, talking, walking. He told me it would hurt but it was worth it to know we had a family of our own. Afghanistan, of course, is a completely different deployment than Iraq. He may shut himself off emotionally the entire year in order to deal with it, which will prevent him from pining for his wife and child.
I told him I would only agree to this if he acknowledged that if I thought our little family wasn't "meshing" when he returned, we'd go to counselling immediately. He consented. So this is where we're at. I feel like I've just chosen a college...I'm excited and terrified and can't wait to begin but desperately want everything to stay exactly the same.
PROS/CONS of Our Decision:
PROS:
1. Having a baby with the love of my life!
2. Having a baby at a young enough age where the problems (hopefully) are minimal.
3. Pregnancy at a time where my husband can be there for me.
4. Possibly having a newborn while he's home as well.
5. Getting to be a mom.
6. Getting everyone's attention almost all the time.
7. Above deserves two spots. I love attention.
8. Focusing on my own health and well-being because I'm focusing on the baby's.
9. Hormones making me beautiful (hopefully).
10. Not being fat pregnant through the heat of summer.
11. A due date in the winter/early spring with a good chunk of time to lose pounds before summer.
12. Having people do things for me because of the belly.
13. Maybe not even getting pregnant at all.
CONS:
1. OH. MY. GOD. I'm gonna be a mom.
2. My Husband possibly missing all our baby's firsts.
3. Being alone with a newborn.
4. Having a newborn while My Husband's deployed...can't wallow like I did last round.
5. Oh, the responsibility...
6. Dealing with My Husband's mom for 12 months. Alone. "No, Mom, I don't think you should move in with me to 'help out.'"
7. Being the only one of my friends/sisters with a child. Talk about being a guinea pig.
There are more PROS than CONS and all the PROS are big and most of the CONS are nitty-gritty. Plus, the idea is that if we do get pregnant in the next few months, it means that God knows I can handle it. If I can just keep reminding myself of that...
Stay tuned. Things in my life are getting serious.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Relapsing
My Husband became his Troop XO (Executive Officer) at the beginning of February. This is quite a different position than platoon leader, which was his job from his deployment until now. It’s a lot more paperwork and a lot more involvement with his Commanding Officer (CO) and the rest of the leadership.
He’s been working 14-hour days for almost two weeks now. He goes in at 5:30am for Physical Training (PT) and gets home after 7pm if we’re lucky. Yesterday he was home about 6:30pm, but it was because he brought a bunch of work to do here at the apartment.
And watching all the enlisted guys wander home before the 5 o'clock local news is really starting to get on my nerves.
Speaking of yesterday, he had to go into work at 3:30am for some kind of march. It was so foggy and dark, and he was so tired…I haven’t been this worried about him since he was deployed. Deer wander around here at all hours, the roads wind unpredictably and it was just SO FOGGY. You couldn’t see 10 feet in front of you. And I’ll be damned if there are street lights more than every 3 miles out here.
Last night I had my first nightmare about him since he was overseas. In the dream he was sick and having trouble breathing. We were staying in some kind of barracks or something, and I was watching a movie with the guy in the next bed while I sat in a chair next to My Husband’s head. A paramedic came to take a look at him and told me he had a terrible lung infection and his organs were shutting down. I remember crying, saying that an infection should be curable. My Husband stirred in his bed and told me it was OK, it was going to be really good to finally go to sleep. I lay down in bed next to him and covered us with a blanket, and I whispered in his ear, “Alright, my love. Just go to sleep.” And so he died.
I woke up with tears on my cheeks. It was 1:30am.
And there is his silhouette in the dark, in the bed next to me. And I can't wake him up to tell him about the dream and have him hold me while I'm crying because he's not getting enough sleep as it is. So I don't. I stared at the ceiling for an hour until I fell into a fitful doze. His alarm went off a little while later.
So obviously I have some anxiety about him…I take it the dream means I am afraid something seemingly preventable could take him from me forever. Like falling asleep at the wheel at some God-awful hour of the morning.
I certainly hope the rest of the leadership is in that stupid office until 1930 hours.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
"Every Bird as it's Reared and for the Lark, the Bog." -- Irish Proverb
Dear Digital Universe,
My name is Lark Delaney. I am almost 26 years old and I live with My Husband and our spaniel, Buoy, in one of the square states in Midwestern America. My Husband is a soldier and the U.S. Army stationed us here just after our summer 2009 wedding.
I spent my first year here alone with Buoy…My Husband deployed overseas just after we moved in. He returned safely in July 2010 and we’ve been adjusting to living together permanently since.
My parents have been married for 30 years and live in the Northeast, where I grew up. I have an older sister, Chloë, who lives with her boyfriend about 20 minutes from my parents. My younger sister, Sarah, works at a small college on one of the Great Lakes and is getting her Master’s degree while she’s at it.
Both of my sisters went to (or are attending) graduate school. I spent four years at Major Metropolitan University (not Major Metropolitan College, which is only a few miles away) and graduated a year before My Husband finished up at his Military College. I worked a number of small jobs the following 12 months to save up for our wedding. It’s been almost four years since I completed university and I haven’t come close to a job that has anything to do with my journalism degree.
I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing…my mom probably still has my original crayon-crusted picture books about unicorns and talking dogs floating around somewhere in their attic. When My Husband deployed a handful of people suggested I start a blog about my “experiences,” but frankly, I didn’t handle the deployment as well as I could have and didn’t want to poison the internet community with my pessimistic ramblings. My slightly cynical, possibly sarcastic and occasionally interesting quips about everyday life now that I’m recovering will be much more entertaining for you, I’m sure.
So thank you for stopping by my blog and I hope you’ll be a regular visitor here.
Yours,
Lark
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