Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Homecoming Part One: The Pickup














Saturday Morning:
The iPod wakes me up with an airy bounce of xylophones (marimba setting maybe?) at the quiet hour of 5:40 a.m. I take a look around and soak in the last morning we will have alone.

My bed suddenly seems large and luxurious.

Dresser suddenly seems cluttered with stuff I don't need and will never use.

Dog seems nine almost ten instead of eight almost nine.

Fingernails suddenly look boyish and unpainted.

Alarm iPod sounds off again. It is time to shower and get on with our last morning flying solo.

I shower then dress myself all up in the bird dress, stretch into some pantyhose (wow, didn't miss those), and latch my shoes. Jewelry is next, then the ironing of the hair (I'm sorry, hair.) Finally, makeup and a dop of my favorite perfume to the wrists and a little underneath the earlobes. Maybe he will notice.

Finally, I am ready.




















Or am I?
(A little nervous, OSMA??)

The phone rings. It's his cell phone number. A number I haven't seen on my caller ID since last October.

"Hi. You've already landed?" I whisper into the phone. Kids are still asleep.
"Hi. Over an hour ago. We left Kuwait early and got here really fast. Don't rush. I'm going to grab a cup of coffee and wait for you outside. You have to go to the International flights. I forgot to tell you that part. International arrivals, okay? Hello?"
"Hi. Yes. Okay. International arrivals. Got it. I will see you soon. We will see you soon. I'm so glad you're already here."
"Love you, Honey. Drive carefully."
"Love you too, I will try."

He's early. He's already here? Oh.My.Heavens. It's finally here. He's finally here. He's going to come back to our fold and be here with us...in an HOUR....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhh...an HOUR?!?




















In our very near future, we all will be picking up a man in civilian clothes carrying three black pieces of luggage and one small camouflage bag from the airport.














Nobody else will know that he just spent over 200 days in the Middle East working on important things for our national security while making himself spaghetti and meatballs at least once a week to remind him of home.














Nobody else will know we just spent over 200 days celebrating holidays, birthdays and milestones without him.














Nobody else will know.















But we will.


































































And that's all that matters.

He's home.

6 comments:

JRitz said...

This just makes me smile!

pajama mom said...

has it really been 200 days?
wow!
misty-eyed over here.

Mrs C. said...

I am very happy for you guys to be together again!! It always makes me think of the time I had my hubby back. Wish you all the best, and enjoy your time together!! Cherish it!! Take care

Ranelle said...

Okay, this made me smile - but it also gave me happy tears for you. Wonderful, wonderful. I'm hopin' and prayin' that the "re-integrating" is going well.

One Sided Momma said...

jritz and pj- bout time for some happy tears, right? :)

mrs. c - thank you so much! thank you and your hubby for your service. a homecoming is never forgotten but i'm glad i could conjure up good memories for yours. you two take care too. thanks for stopping by. i read you and will get off my hind end and comment so you know i'm reading :)

Silke C said...

havent been on for a while, and just saw ur reply. We still got some time left over here and then it's probably back to good ole USA for us :)
I hope all is going well with you guys?
Have a wonderful week :)