Things that Matter

My Dear Husband,

It's funny how we can spend so much time talking about the silly little things. The things that don't matter beyond the moment.

But when we hit upon a topic that matters, it's instantly deep, serious and eternally significant.

Your son.

So much like you. So much like me.

In both ways he needs you so much.

Talking about you deploying does scare me, but I know it's something that is do-able. It's temporary. Talking about you dying turns my heart to stone.

We know these things are possible, but we rarely talk about them. Of all the things that upset me about the military, all the annoyances, all the disappointments... these are the only things that I avoid thinking about because they aren't little. They matter. They're too life-changing.

Thinking about talking with my children about them scares me just as much.

I used to like talking about "real" things. The serious, philosophical aspects of life. It made me feel smart and deep and concerned about the things that matter. What a silly, ego-stroking practice.

Those things didn't matter.

The things that matter often go over-looked. We don't really forget. Not really. We just let the impact miss us. Maybe because they're right in front of us every day. Maybe because they seem mundane. Maybe they seem mundane because so much of the daily routine goes hand-in-hand with the miracles they are.

You.

My relationship with you.

These things have re-awakened in their importance in the last six months.

Our children.

My relationship with them.

These things are in the process of re-awakening. I still get mired in the daily routine and forget how miraculous they are.

I know that your military experience and its impact on the kids and me is what has made us realize what is important. I can thank the military for that.

You'll be home soon. I've already expressed to you my hope that I won't slide back into the routine of missing the impact of the important things. Every day with you is a miracle. Each one granted and gifted by God.

I think our kids will feel the same way about you when you come home. You'll hardly have a moment to yourself.

And you won't mind because you'll feel the same way about us.

As with anything good, we have to hold onto each other with both hands. We're in it together and we're stronger that way.

Yours,

Girly

Color

My Dear Husband,

Since you've been back at AIT, things have been different. I can see you and talk to you every day, now. Skype has been a heaven send for me. To see your face and hear your voice every day is wonderful, even when the connection is bad and we spend those precious minutes squinting at each other and stating, intelligently, "Huh?"

It is also more difficult in some ways. When I was waiting for letters, that was a special kind of torture. I never knew when I'd hear from you and, in a way, was able to just go on with things because hearing from you was so unlikely on a day to day basis. Now, because I know roughly when you will call, everything stops around that time and I don't do anything so that I can be near the computer. In some ways, it makes the time move by slower.

The difference is, it makes the time sweeter and more bearable.

Seeing you in your uniform makes me smile. It looks good on you and you wear it well. It's just a shame that I don't get to see you in person while you wear it.

Standing next to you when you're in uniform makes me the proudest wife in the world. Standing next to you when you aren't wearing it, but knowing you wear it just below the surface, makes me secretly the proudest wife in the world.

We're trudging along in the final stretch. We won't touch each other again until you're done. Graduated. Officially official. Each day brings us closer to when you'll be home. Every minute. Every second. There's a poignancy to everything that was never there before we were separated.

I think it's strangely appropriate that you left just as fall was winding up and winter was so close on its heels. Everything was changing and, eventually, dying.

The cold months have been empty and gray.

Christmas was a burst of color and joy.

Valentine's too.

When you are home, the vibrancy and potency of my life comes back.

I think it's also appropriate that you will be coming home as things warm up and life comes back to everything. I keep looking for the signs of Spring because I know that so soon after the world gets its color back, I will too.

I love you, Soldier Boy.

Yours,

Girly