In Afghanistan or Not... (Day 151)

I thought day 150 was going to feel a lot better than it did. It was actually just another day, just another number. And now I have a new countdown. I physically cannot function for a day without thinking that I just want it to be tomorrow, I just want another week to be over. Another month to come and go faster than the last.

Lets look at the time since he left.

151 days.

22 weekends.

Almost 5 months.

217,440 minutes.

3,264 hours.

10 pay checks.

Probably 300 emails.

Around 40 hours of phone conversation.

No Skype.

40 or so pictures.


I sat on my couch yesterday, covered up with our feather blanket and closed my eyes. I tried to think of the first night of him being home. I tried to imagine him laying next to me, seeing him look back at me, being able to hold his hand. I got so close to imagining kissing him and then I lost it. The visual in my head went away. Certain daydreams can seem so real, he was almost here and then BAM, the images were gone. It might seem exaggerated, but in all honesty, it's not.

He's my best friend. I miss the smart ass comments, him making fun of me, him chasing me around the apartment. He would do anything for me. He doesn't care if he ends up happy, he doesn't care if he benefits from it or not. He's tired, dirty, and sick right now and he still looks out for me. He hasn't showered alone, pissed in a real toilet, watched TV, had real sheets, worn a pair of jeans, ate a home cooked meal, gotten "any", or kissed his beautiful wife in 5 months. And has NEVER complained. Yes, I do get the phone calls where he isn't in a good mood, where he's irritated and tired, but never heard a complaint. Except that he's excited to come home.

When we say our wedding vows again I believe we will be throwing in an extra line...

In sickness and in health, in Afghanistan or not, til death do us part.

Me and my best friend, forever. I'd do anything for him, 8,000 miles away or not.