Rest, My Yellow Ribbon, For A While

12Jun08

16:02

The days have clicked down and, after a lot of back-and-forth changes to the schedule, I now know what time I have to be at the airport to pick Clyde up. I’ve been in a flurry of activity, trying to fill hours that seem days long. I had my hair cut and dyed, my outfit for the airport is hanging on my closet door, and, after I finish this post, the house will be scrubbed from top to bottom. My baby is coming home.

My supervisor talked with the other dispatchers, and my shifts are covered for the first week that Clyde will be here. I really can’t afford to do that, but I’m doing it anyway — They’ll help me make it up when I go back, I’m sure. 😉 Clyde wants to drive down for a visit with his mother, and we’ll be stopping along the way to see some of my friends and family, so I’ll actually be getting something that looks like a vacation for the first time in my life (literally). After that, I have to go back to work, but I’ll still have off for the last three days he’ll be here. Clyde will have his 25th birthday while he is here, so I figure on losing him to a hangover for at least a day or two.  Still, all in all, I’ll be able to spend most of his leave with him, and he’ll have time to go off and do his own thing without me. Of course, while he’s here, I have to move to the apartment he and I rented with one of our friends, and moving always sucks, but it’s ok by me. He’ll be here, so I don’t care.

My donut tells me that, by the time he leaves, we’ll be about halfway through this deployment. It’s hard to believe the months have passed the way they have so far. After four months, I had hit a stride. I can’t say I’ve been happy, but I was functioning and getting things back in order after that whole emo-sobbing, lying-in-bed-eating-chocolate-all-day thing.  It’s been rough, but it’s over, and I think I’ll be able to bounce back a bit faster this time (ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseGodplease).

II can barely sit still. My need to see Clyde again has overpowered my embarrassment, and I’m just a girl excited to see her Soldier again. It’s a good feeling, but nothing I want to get used to. I’m still unfailingly anxious for December and the end of this deployment. I still hope, constantly, that there won’t be another one (and bemoan my inner knowledge that it most likely will). For all the moments brought about by the situation, moments that my friends call “sweet” and “romantic”, I would trade them all for a day with him that isn’t borrowed from Uncle Sam.

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