Escaping

Tomorrow I will be dropping off Symphony tickets to some families of injured soldiers, so that while they are visiting their soldiers they can get a little pleasure in their life...escape for a while. Sadly I am getting used to seeing young men limping around with canes or prosthetics. Do you look, smile sympathetically or nod your head in a weak attempt at a thank you or just completely ignore the canes, the limps, the burns? I don't know. I'm not even sure what to tell my kids who ask in complete innocence "What happened to that man's face Mommy?" I can't tell them the truth because then they will have nightmares about Daddy. I usually just say that man got hurt with fire...don't point.

Today I received a letter from a family member that I unfortunately rarely see. In it she writes of how hard I have it with the three little ones and my Neuralgia pain. It made me stop and think about how I have been able to get through the last few months. I can honestly say that without my family and friends I am not sure I would be getting through it all. They are my "tickets to the Symphony". I definitely have moments that I just want to walk out and never look back.

But mostly I have a desire to see this deployment through. Perhaps this will be our last deployment. I can tell in my husband's "voice" via email, he is ready to come home. Usually it is a "rah rah" email/letter, with: We are doing our part for our country, our kids. Feel proud of what we are accomplishing. We are doing good things here. Now it's a count down to when he will be home.

We are almost done with our fourth month apart. The kids are still drawing pictures, sometimes with Daddy in them, sometimes without. But mostly we just chug along with our daily lives. Me praying that the pain has been cured (we shall start finding out starting next week!), the kids talking about the impending move at the end of the summer.

I think of those families that are visiting their sons, brothers, husbands and the long road of recovery they have in front of them. I also am reminded by the house on the corner who has pictures upon pictures plastered to their fence of the men who have been killed in Iraq. I see women with pins on their shirts in honor of their sons, friends, husbands who have been killed. Suddenly our wait isn't such a huge deal. We can do it. As long as I get an email every day that tells me he is safe. And that is how I get through it.