I'm a pretty good talker. Well, according to Sgt. I'm just about the best there is. I usually make at least one friend wherever I go and irritate the rest of the peeps until someone acknowledges me. Not necessarily true but it's what HE says.
We've had a crazy month or so running in different directions and sometimes we tend to lose sight of one another but normally we make it back to common ground. Sgt. is a wonderful friend to others and fantastic father. He is also a good husband but he tends to be better to others than he is to me. Meaning I have to rely on me a lot to get things done. I, personally, think it's all linked to the Y chromosome but that's just my wifely theory with nothing but his track record to substantiate it. I digress.
The summer always sends us in lots of directions and this summer it has put us going opposite ways. Last night we were able to actually talk. Granted, it was with BG in the bed between us because she absolutely refused to sleep without holding both our hands. Sweet? Oh, heck yes. Bad? Oh, heck yes...she's a terrible bed partner who flails with all 27 lbs. of her little body. It'll knock the wind right out of you. But, our king size bed is more conducive than her double bed. So, a family night it was. Normally he is asleep before his head hits the pillow but it takes me an hour or two to unwind and drift off to sleep. Last night was a RARE occasion so I took full advantage of it. We talked. Not just idle chit chat but we talked.
I often look at him and it makes me smile remembering when we first met. See, I hated him; I didn't like him one iota. He was drunk and asked me to two-step. Sure. He couldn't walk straight and I'm not sure what made me think he could dance. (Come to find out, it wasn't the alcohol. The boy simply cannot dance.) It was my friends M and A who told me he was cute and I should give him a second chance. And so I did. I'm reminded that I'm glad I gave him another chance. I don't think he sees me like that; it's not the way he is wired and it doesn't bother me but just sometimes.
Every Sunday in church, our congregation prays for our troops and usually Sgt. is mentioned by name for his service in the National Guard. Yesterday during prayer, he untangled me from BG's grasp and held my hand and squeezed it tight during prayer. It made my heart melt into a huge puddle because something in him was being soft, which doesn't happen all that often. We also found out that a member of our congregation has been in Afghanistan. WHO KNEW? We didn't but Sgt. shocked me again by going up to him and shaking his hand. Sgt. typically doesn't just approach people he doesn't know; I melted.
He had helped some friends of ours move into a new house so I made some food to feed the masses yesterday afternoon and as we were driving out to their house, he reached over hand held my hand. Wow...it was like falling in love all over again.
So, last night we laid in bed, BG holding onto each of our hands, and we were looking at her then each other. We always tell each other how much we love her, how pretty she is and how blessed we are to have her in our lives. I told him, "look how pretty she is." He said, "Yes, but still not as pretty as you."
I told him I was going to miss him when he deploys. He reminds me he isn't gone yet but I always tell him no, but I need for you to know how much. We then began talking about the volunteer work I do with Blue Star Mothers, the letter writing team with Soldiers Angels and our adopted soldiers. I told him it's important to me to stay connected with those who need it the most. I know what it's like to be left out of the loop and not have any support. Granted, I was at home and not in the sand box but lonely is lonely. I don't want these folks to be lonely. He smiled at me and told me that is why he loves me; I share myself and don't think twice about it. It didn't matter, it wasn't about me.
I told him I'm scared of this next deployment. I'm scared because they are the ones searching out for and destroying I E Ds. I began to cry - not boo hoo just tears running down my face. He started to talk and I stopped him. This is what I told him. "I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you for doing what you do. Your job works in an effort to keep others safe. I'm at peace with that." He looked at me and this is why I say that....
When they were on the Haditha Dam, several Marines lost their lives protecting Sgt. and the others who were there. I will forever be grateful for that. I can't imagine being a family member of any of our fallen heroes but I'm grateful for the sacrifices made for my husband and our family. One of the Marines was from Oklahoma, Sgt's home state, and his parents' neighbor was his instructor in ROTC. For some reason, that young man stood out to me. I wrote a letter and sent it to the funeral home. I don't know what it said other than thanked them. I remember thanking them for their son's service, their love for their son and how much his service meant to our family. I'll never know if they read it. I'll never know if they did, did they curse me for my husband living and their son dying? I'll never know any of it. But, as grim as it is, I have found peace within my heart and it is because someone else's job kept Sgt. safe. I want him to do the same. That's my glass half full perspective on it.
I love my husband dearly. We don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. Heck, we aren't even on the same plane with many of them. At the end of the day, despite our differences and my flighty nature (his words) and his borderline mute way of life (my words), we've got it together. I will miss him. I want him to do his job and do it well.
At the end of the conversation, he told me, "Nice talking to you." Thanks, babe.