Husband

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Reintegration: Where I tell you about oceans.

(If you are new here, my husband is a medevac pilot who just returned home from a 9 month deployment to Afghanistan.) He’s home now, and we are lying in the dark under the covers, me with my hand on his arm because we must be touching. And he’s right next to me, but there is an ocean between us while he tells me what he’s seen. I’m holding my breath to keep the tears quiet, but they slip fat and...

Finish Line

I was elbow deep in greasy dishwater one day this week and letting my eyes wander around this home we’ve made. In the moment, my gaze drifted upward to the music pages wreath perched above our oversized bookshelves with the embroidered “Huggins” slightly askew. It occured to me that it was the perfect picture of how I’ve felt over the past eight and a half months. A little off kilter, tipped off my center of gravity and scrambling for level ground....

A little love note … {HANDS}

Editor’s note: Life just keeps.on.happening and I am treading fast to stay on top of the wind and the waves. And this blog has suffered for it. And truthfully, my song is a little bit one note. Single parenting is hard. Our children are wild, wonderful, and flat out exhausting. I miss the Husband. I’m emotional and empty. See – I just blogged the last three months into one paragraph. You’re welcome. But I miss writing, and I am making my way back here...

Grace Like Rain

{Editor’s note: If you are new here, Husband {Daddy} is currently serving in Afghanistan.} To my J Girl. You had a hard day in church. You are nestled up under my shoulder, squirming a little in your attempts to keep the time marching forward. After the third, or thirtieth time I ask you to sit still, or sit up, or pay attention I see your lips quivering and your head bowing, “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry.” We slip out, my heart seizing up a little,...

Rest For Your Souls

Didja ever have those days? Those days – like today – where I end up on the wooden floor in my living room backed up against the wall, hypnotized by the dust motes floating lazily around pale, cold sunbeams. And the wall is necessary, bracing me, because I feel like crumbling. Crumbling because today was a day that I remembered – really remembered – that the Husband is at war. He does a dangerous job in a dangerous place and...

Hero … Part 1.

{Super late, of course, but linking up with Lisa Jo and the Five Minute Friday crew.} The soldier as hero narrative makes us uncomfortable, it does. But the gratitude comes often and expressive when he is in uniform. And because there is a generation of warriors who were spat on, dismissed, and discarded – we don’t throw away the thank yous.  And we say thank you in return, because really what else can you say, and I am easy with...

Flying Machines

So Husband is gone now and with every flying machine that wings its way overhead, I hear a little voice from the back seat – “Is that Daddy?” and I say “No, that’s not Daddy,” and my heart sinks a little at knowing this conversation will continue for what feels like a million months, because my boy loves flying things, and oh, he loves his daddy. And I love his daddy too and I would hitch a ride on any...