Pre-deployment Jitters

This morning I rose early, in hopes of doing a little exercise while my house slept.  As I fumbled through the dark hallway, I tripped.

“Damn it!”  I whispered as I reached down to retrieve the obstacle in my path.  

My heart sank as I realized it was my husband’s very worn, very dirty combat boots. In six short weeks on a very early morning, we will man handle my husband’s military gear into the back of his pick up. We will sit silently as we drive the short distance to an overflowing parking lot full of crying children, jittery wives, and more guns than can be counted.  My nervous kids will complain that they are cold, and hungry, and tired.  I will remind them that Daddy is leaving in a few hours.  They need to make it count.  What a silly thing to say.  I will say it anyway.  

This isn’t my first dance with a deployment.  I won’t cry.  The new wives will sob hysterically and cling to their husband’s necks, but not me.  I learned a long time ago that being emotionally raw on this day in front of my husband hurts him.  He needs me to be strong so he can leave without the mountain of guilt that will eventually hit him like a tidal wave.  I know that the other wives will wonder why Green’s wife never cries.  Some will even say that I am icy and unloving.  Contrary to this assumption, I am using the finely polished skills I have perfected over the last ten years of being a military wife.  

Here is what I have learned about myself and my husband’s love:  I know that love is not selfish.  Love is not wild abandon.  Love is finding courage when one feels they have none.  Love is strong.  Love is enduring until the end.  Love is sometimes foregoing what you may want for what is best for your partner.  

So, I won’t cry in that sad, dark parking lot.  I will hold my head high.  I will laugh.  I will fight back the grief that will try and choke me.  I will hold him, and then I will let him go.  I will turn and walk away.  I will not look back.  If I looked back he would see the flood of agony pouring down my face.  

See, I am crying this morning, alone in the dark, as I cling to a pair of nasty boots.  I hope he never knows how much I miss those damned things when he’s gone.