Chris and Miss

Chris returned to Iraq last week.  It was wonderful having him home, yet also bittersweet because we knew he would be leaving again.  Despite the short amount of time we had together; it was exciting beyond words to wake up and see him each morning, and to be able to watch him tuck the kids into bed, each night.  I thought I would share a short story I wrote last month and submitted for publication.  I am unsure if it will be picked up, but because I will retain the copyright, either way, I decided to post it as a blog.  I titled it My Hero, although just yesterday Maddie caught sight of the file on our computer and asked about it.  I explained that the story is about her Dad.  She suggested I rename it Our Hero because Daddy is her hero too.  Therefore, I dedicate this blog to Chris- our hero.

 Our Hero

The caption of the newspaper read, Good Luck Heroes.  The gates near Fort Lewis were strewn with yellow ribbons, and the overpasses filled with supporters waving flags and cheering.  One might have thought it was a Veteran’s Day celebration—an opportunity to salute the brave men and women who have fought for our country, on foreign soil.  Of course, things are not always as they appear.  It had been just two weeks since we received his Mobilization Order.  I wondered how I got here, how my life had changed so much that I was going from anticipating the moment my husband walks through the door for dinner to praying for his convoy, as they advance into Iraq.  This November day was when I realized sometimes patriotism is more than fastening a yellow magnet to my car and waving a flag.  Today it means bidding the man I love farewell, as he prepares to go fight for our country—knowing he might come home in a flag-draped coffin.

            The reality that I might lose him is not one I want to face; yet, it is always there, in the back of my mind, as I will myself to get out of bed in the morning.  It would be naïve of me to think he is completely safe; amid reports of casualties, mortars, rockets, and car bombs.  Some might think it is an overreaction to get our finances and insurance documents in order, but for me, it is merely survival.  On this day, as I bid my husband farewell, others salute him and call him a hero—but I know the truth, he was a hero long before the military called on him to be.

            When I was a little girl, I envisioned a life of fairy tales, as most little girls do.  I pictured a tiara-wearing existence with Prince Charming, to hold my hand, as he guided me down the spiral staircase, of our castle.  Never once did it occur to me that my Prince would be escorting me to a Militia Ball, wearing Dress Blues and introducing me to his fellow soldiers.  As a young girl, I would never have imagined my husband would wear an Army uniform to work each day, or that he would have a rank in front of his name.  Nor did I realize by marrying a soldier, I would be entering a world of ritual, of sacrifice, of pride— I never before knew existed.

            I have watched his career progress with awards and honors.  I stood alongside his Mom as he was commissioned an Officer in the United States Army, right out of college.  I proudly watched as he took his position as Troop Commander.  I took pictures when he was inducted into the Order of Saint George.  I framed his Bronze Star award, and smiled with pride, on the day he received it.  I have witnessed the bars and awards on his uniform grow larger with each passing year.  I have seen the efforts of his work recognized with promotions and Meritorious Service Awards.  I have witnessed the accomplishments of his military career—the accomplishments which make him a hero, in the eyes of others.

            Yet, I believe the true hero is the man I wake up to every morning.  He is the person that rubs my forehead when I am sad, and who never forgets to say I love you, at the end of the day.  He is the man who tells me to drive safely and calls to check how my appointment went.  My husband is the man that sat in a rocking chair looking over me the night I delivered our stillborn daughter.  He is the one who cut the umbilical cords of our children, when they were born.

            The hero I know is the person who stays up at night holding his sick daughter, and teaches his son how to add and subtract.  He is the man that stood beside his baby, in the emergency room, as the nurses administered an IV.  He is the son who helped plan his Dad’s funeral and then delivered the eulogy.  My husband is the father that is willing to do anything to make the world a safer place for his children, even if it means sacrificing time with them.  He is the man who can paint a room, reprogram a computer and organize the garage—all in one day.  He is my best friend, and the man I want to grow old with.  He is my hero.

            When I remember that cold November day, I find it hard to believe five years have passed.  I can recall the helplessness I felt, surrounded by the overwhelming loneliness which crept out of the shadows when the kids were sleeping soundly in their beds.  I forced myself to get out of bed each day, and fought off the nightmares that consumed my sleep, while worrying he would not return to me.  I embraced him with joy when he eventually did come home; a veteran, a hero.  We picked up right where we left off, both of us—together, a team. 

            I now sit on my front porch, watching the flag float in the breeze, an unobstructed view of Mount Rainier, in the distance.  My husband has been gone for seven months of his second tour, to Iraq.  We knew another deployment was inevitable, yet no matter how long you have to prepare yourself, it still manages to sneak up on you, and shock your senses.  I look forward to his return, to witnessing the excitement of my children when they once again see the man whose face lights up a room.  He is a hero in the eyes of any American who sleeps comfortably in their bed at night knowing the sacrifices he makes for their freedom.  He is a soldier who has served his county twice, on foreign soil.  Yet, in my house, we know the real hero.  He is my husband, and he is the bravest man I know.   

It has been awhile since I blogged last.  The other day my brother-in-law, Joe, called to ask when we would be adding another post, because he reads them.  So you’re the one, I thought.  I always knew I liked him.  Seriously though, I want to say thank you to all of our readers (I say “our”, with the hope that Chris may someday actually contribute to this site- hope being the operative word).  It makes me glad to know someone else, besides myself, is visiting our website.  I had to laugh last month when my Dad informed me that he googled me on his new blackberry.  Not only because he googled anything; but because he typed in my name when he could call me any day of the week, to see what I have been up to.  He informed me, he was so proud when one of my Celiac articles came up.  “But I’ve told you about those, Dad.”  His response, “Yes, but it’s on google…”  I asked if he also saw someone else with my name is a professional ballroom dancer- now that would be cool.

It has been a crazy month in our household…hence, the lack of blogging.  I wish I could say the weather has just been too perfect to work on the computer; we have been enjoying the sunshine, visiting the Zoo, playing at parks, and going on ferry rides, across the Puget Sound.  That would be a massive exaggeration- despite three whole days of sunshine, in a row, the weather has been very dreary this spring.  After a winter filled with rain-wind-ice-snow-sleet-then more snow, we entered spring with rain and more snow.  The Cascades will be closed today for Avalanche work- which about sums everything up.

I guess the main reason I haven’t sat down to blog, is I have been using my precious writing time to finish the first draft of my novel.  I began working on it about six months ago, after unsuccessfully querying my previous project- a Memoir about Chris’ last deployment to Iraq.  I don’t know if I will ever publish the Memoir, but I do know it will be something for my kids to have, as a written account of what we went through, five years ago.  Regardless…I have decided my true calling might just be fiction.  Therefore, for the final stretch of my novel, I made a pact with myself, that I was not allowed to blog until I finished Draft 1.  After six months, many naptimes spent writing, and a lot of late nights- I have reached 105,000 words, and am ready to edit.

The best thing, however, that has happened in the past month- actually, past eight months, is Chris came home.  I’d love to say the deployment is finally over, and we can all resume our normal lives, but I can’t yet.  He is currently home for R & R leave; in non-military terms, that stands for Rest and Relaxation.  For every year a soldier is deployed, they are entitled to fourteen days of leave, which thankfully, does not include travel time.  We didn’t really know exactly when his leave would begin, just an open-window, so for a month I just waited to hear.  He has been home for five days, and the time has passed all too quickly.  The only positive aspect of his return to Iraq is, we will only have about four months left of the deployment, before he is home permanently.

The phone rang last Wednesday, 6:30 a.m., to be exact.  I knew it was either bad news, or Chris, calling to let me know where he was- I was hoping for the latter, and was correct.  He was in Dallas, and the number he was calling from was his cell, a number which hasn’t popped up on my caller ID, since October.  After eight long months, we were within hours of his return.  Peyton ran into my bedroom to ask if Dad was on the phone and then practically ripped it out of my hand when I confirmed he was.  We began the countdown until his flight would land- exactly eight hours later……………………………………………………………………..

7:00 a.m.- When are we leaving to pick up Daddy?- Peyton 

I made breakfast for us- of course, no one in my house, eats the same thing.  Between food allergies and different tastes, it is a huge production.  The coffee never tasted as good as that Wednesday morning- knowing that on Thursday, Chris would be home to enjoy it with me.

7:30 a.m.- When is Dad going to be here?- Madison

I cleaned up the dishes and told the kids that they should clean their rooms so that Dad could see how well they take care of their stuff.  They didn’t argue and we all had the benefit of not hearing me nag.

8:00 a.m.- When are we going to the airport?  I just can’t wait!- Peyton

I went for a run on the treadmill, while the television babysat Ally and the DS babysat Maddie and Peyton.  This is why I would be the worse homeschool Mom, ever.

8:30 a.m.- This is taking forever…can’t we just go to the airport now?- Madison

Maddie and Peyton are on Spring Break, and after five days of watching it rain outside, we are running low on things to do.  Plus, sitting around and waiting for Dad to come home, in a word- “stinks”.  I have to admit, the last 24-hours, were brutal. 

10:00 a.m.- I don’t want to do my homework- I want to pick up Daddy.- Peyton

So…you are seeing a pattern here.  If I actually wrote down how many times they asked when we were leaving or when he would be here, or how many more hours and minutes- this blog would be upwards of 10,000 words.  They asked a lot, and for several days prior.

10:30 a.m.- Daddy?- Allison

Yes, even Ally was excited for him to come home.  She always points to his pictures and likes to watch DVDs he has sent home of him reading.  She mentions him all the time, and was only shy with him for maybe three seconds, before running and being engulfed in a hug. 

10:45 a.m.- I just can’t take it anymore!- Madison

I kept thinking of all of the things I could do when Chris was home…go to a movie alone, go grocery shopping, take a nice and quiet nap, enjoy Church without standing in the foyer as Ally displays her two-year-old self on the floor, sleep in, have help with bath and bed time.  The thing is though- I don’t want to do anything by myself right now- I just want to hang out with Chris.  Exception- I really do like going grocery shopping alone…

11:00 a.m.- How many more minutes?- Madison and Peyton

I think about giving the dog a bath and then change my mind, because I am not that desperate for something to do- I guess we’ll just drive over to Starbucks…

12:00 p.m.- This is taking forever!- Madison  You already said that, more than once.- Me

Do you ever wonder what it will be like to see someone you love more than anything when you haven’t seen them for so long?  Will he look the same…will he act the same…will he be quiet…will he still love me…will the kids be shy around him…how long before we are in our normal family mode again?  These are all questions that consume my thoughts; that’s probably why my stomach ache started around this time.

12:30 p.m.- Can we just go there and wait in the car?- Peyton

Peyton and Madison hate to be late- they would walk to the bus stop and stand in the rain thirty minutes early, if I let them.  I, on the other hand, have been late for everything since having kids.  I have no idea why I even wear a watch, it is completely pointless.

1:30 p.m.- Why would I be shy around him?  He’s my Dad…- Madison  (I think she would have added”duh” to the end of that statement if I wasn’t her mom and it wouldn’t have warranted a grounding.)

I turned on Karate Kid 2- it was on one of the cable channels.  I then spent the next thirty minutes explaining to them that we don’t have typoons where we live, and that people no longer fight to the death in karate matches.  I also checked online to see that his flight was delayed…just great.

2:00 p.m.- Chips!- Allison 

We stopped at the gift shop in the airport for a snack.  Ally cried for chips and then changed her mind to M&Ms at the checkout counter.

His flight was delayed again; so we camped out in the baggage area and waited.  It was the longest hour of my life.  The kids could barely contain themselves, plus I made it more interesting by appeasing them with lots of candy.  Believe me…I am stellar, in stressful situations.  My stomach ache continued.

3:00 p.m. Mom- this is taking forever!- Madison, Peyton and probably everyone sitting near my impatient and wound up kids.

3:15 p.m.- There he is!  He’s here!  Me

With a camera in hand, I captured a moment that pictures aside- I will never forget.  It was the sheer excitement of three kids running to greet their Dad after months of missing him.  For the first time in awhile, I felt relaxed and at peace.  My shoulders untensed, my heart skipped a beat, and my stomach ache dissipated.  My husband is home, he is safe, and we are all together.

Welcome Home, Dad!