Full Moons and Sweaty M&Ms;

For once, chaos and drama are afflicting everyone around me instead of me. I feel like I'm on a little tiny island in the midst of some pretty huge fucking storms. Marriages all around are falling apart, mothers are losing children to cancer or custody battles, friends are in the midst of huge financial crises.

At several points in my life I was arrogant and judgmental, thinking those things couldn't touch me. Experience has taught me that there is no real difference between any of us and everything can change in an instant. I am grateful for this time of peace in our lives. I am reveling in the joy of my marriage and motherhood. The only real way to preserve a moment is to fully experience it, letting it become a part of my consciousness so that it becomes part of my being.

The privilege of shepherding my children to adulthood has been wonderfully overwhelming lately. How lucky am I to get to experience these tender years with them? I get to walk with them on their journey, guiding them when I can, teaching them about life and what it means to be human. In the beginning of motherhood I didn't understand the end-goal. I was so wrapped up in making sure they did what they were supposed to because I wanted well-behaved, well-adjusted children. I've realized recently (again) that I'm not raising children, I'm raising adults. They are individuals--individuals who exist completely outside of myself. It is easy to see them as extensions of me, but they are totally separate critters with different outlooks, goals, and idiosyncrasies. I'm working on respecting them as their own people.

So far being mindful of these truths has changed the tone of our household. Overall, we have more joy in our home and our kids are even becoming more respectful of one another. Being present has made my heart overflow several times in the past few weeks--as we gazed at the full moon from the driveway after bedtime, as Sprout shared her palm-sweaty m&m with me, as I paused after yelling at them to "CALM DOWN!" to realize they just needed to burn some energy so we went out and ran laps on the sidewalk after dark. I love watching those little dudes running their hoppy, uncoordinated strides in the evening.

In the interest of transparency, I just yelled at the littlest ones to quit throwing things on the floor. I still get angry and frustrated and tired and snap at them when I shouldn't. There are times they feel like leeches and I can't handle another single touch or "Mama?" preceding a sentence. I find myself saying "Go away!" or "Be quiet!" way more often than I should.

Overall, though, I realize how fortunate I am. When I take a moment to see them--really see them, not just look at them--I am flooded with gratitude for getting to spend this time with them. They are my heart and joy.

Boggle

I've had a lot on my mind recently but "quiet house time" generally coincides with "barely holding my eyes open" time so there hasn't been much opportunity for writing. Also, I don't like where my desk/computer is and it completely impedes my creative productivity.

Excuses, aside, here's a little mind vomit:

1. Soldier Boy was selected for the school, but he might deploy for a while before he can attend it. We're still figuring out details. The selection is huge, HUGE for our family. He does have a report date, which is super nice. So I'm in pre-deployment pre-PCS mid-notknowingwhatthefuckthearmyisdoing mode. It's cool.

2. I've been spending a lot of time considering marriage, as I watch one close to me dissolve. Several others that are close are on the rocks or are in constant turmoil. I never really thought it would affect me like it does, honestly. It makes me want to hold SB closer. We have problems sometimes like everybody else, but they aren't all that bad. I finally came up with something worthy of "vows" the other day, since I always meant to write my own. "Let's always be good to each other." He agreed very simply and sincerely. Good enough for me.

3. Crush is TWO and everything that entails. Taking him anywhere outside the house becomes extremely unpleasant very quickly and I feel like a failure most of the time. It will get better. I need some more quiet time to come up with a better plan.

4. This is certainly not on the bottom of my list, but I've left it for last here. I've spent an inordinate amount of time over the last few days trying to figure out when it would EVER be appropriate for an adult to say "fuck you" to a 7 year old, but I just can't come up with anything. Not really in any circumstance. Ever. I'm betting some of my audience could identify which drunken old womanizing fuck said that to which 7 year old. This hurts my heart and consumes most of my energy at the moment.

Motherhood is a Lot Like This

Alternately titled: Why I make lists.

Also alternately titled: It's a wonder anyone in my family ever gets fed.

Maybe titled: The men in white coats are coming soon.

My thoughts are in italics. My actions are in *'s. The children's words are in quotes.

Need to pee.

*See the puppy*

Rosie needs to be let out.

*Start walking to back door, see the kitchen.*

Gotta make breakfast for Birch.

*Open blinds in kitchen, look outside.*

Hey, it's trash day!

*Head to laundry room for recycling.*

Need to feed the cat.

*Feed the cat.* (Pet feeding success!)

*Feel proud of self for feeding the cat.*

Need to pee.

*Hear dog whining.*

Crap, forgot to let dog out.

*Momentarily feel like a moron for not letting dog out, then let her out.* (Let dog out success!)

"What's for breakfast?"

Gooosh, climb off my back! Wait, what IS for breakfast? Cereal? No, that was yesterday. Bagels. I am such an awesome mom for switching up breakfast.

*Feel proud of self for offering a variety of foods for breakfast. Put bagel in toaster.*

I wonder what's going on on Facebook.

*Go to computer, get lost for 5 minutes.*

Dammit, what am I doing? I'm supposed to be making her lunch. But maybe I should start the laundry right now.

*Hear dog whining and let her in. Walk back to computer and sit down.*

LUNCH!

*Walk to kitchen and get out lunch supplies.*

I want coffee. I should make it now so it's ready for the bus stop. I love being a bus stop coffee mom.

*Walk to coffee pot, see bagel in toaster.*

Bagel, then lunch. Bagel, then lunch.

*Put bagel on plate and give to Birch, walk back to kitchen.* (Breakfast success!)

I am going to do ALL my laundry today. I will have all clean clothes, folded and put away. I am the awesomest laundry doer EVER. Hey, it's trash day!

"Mama, can I watch a moooooviiiieeee?"

Sprout is so cute in the mornings. I need to hug her.

*Sit down on the couch to snug with Sprout.*

LUNCH. Crap, I forgot. But I'm an awesome mom for packing her lunch every day.

*Put a blankie on Sprout and feel a little superior to other mothers who don't pack lunches while I walk to kitchen.

Need to pee. Make lunch first. Hey, coffee would be nice.


*Finish lunch.* (Make lunch success!)

Hey, it's trash day! And I need to pee. And start that laundry.

*Make coffee.*

Oh crap oh crap oh crap, gonna miss bus stop coffee time. Brew, coffee, brew!

*Quickly start educational TV show for Sprout and stare at coffee pot.*

TV this early is ok if it's educational, right? Right. COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE!!!

*Look out door to check for bus.*

Hey, it's trash day!

*Get my coffee and make sure Birch has all her things for school. Step outside with her.* (Make coffee success!)

Hey, it's trash day!

*Bounce out to bus stop to meet friend with coffee.* (Bus stop coffee mom success!)

Need to pee.

*Chat with friend and our girls.*

"Hey, did you know it's trash day?"

Hey, it's trash day!

*Pretend I remembered it is trash day.*

Need to pee.

*Chat for a while longer after the girls get on the bus. Interrupt conversation several times to remind each other about trash day.*

Must pee.

*Go inside to restroom.* (Elimination success!)

Gotta feed the little midgets.

*Walk to kitchen, look out front door.*

Hey, it's trash day!

*Walk outside to take trash to curb. Receive text from neighbor reminding me it is trash day. Feel brilliant for having recycling in my hand already.* (Trash day success!)

I should totally blog this.

*See flowers that need to be potted on porch.*

Five Years Ago

Five years ago I started blogging. This has been a truly amazing and unexpected journey.

Five years ago I was in complete turmoil. I had left the abusive OF, had ended the most shameful decision of my entire life--an affair with Prince Charming, had been raped by HD's cousin, and was trying to set up a new home with the few items I managed to take when I left. I lived in a shitty little duplex in an ancient and badly renovated house, and I slept on the top bunk of the bunk beds I bought for HD. During the day I still worked for OF as a Realtor, during the nights HD stayed with OF, I was a fine dining server.

Five years ago I still drank too much. I hated coming home to an empty house, so I went out to a local bar and closed it down every night HD wasn't with me. I was very fortunate to make a friend who respected me, cared for me, and helped keep me out of trouble during those reckless nights. MicSteve was one of the people who helped me find my feet through it all.

Five years ago I was dating Soldier Boy, but I frequently told him to date other people because "I am dangerous and volatile and I am going to hurt you." He forgave me when I hurt him and stuck around until I became stable. I'm glad he didn't listen to me when I told him to leave. I'm glad he turned the truck around and came back the one time he considered leaving.

Five years ago I had cut myself off from all of my friends and family because of the OF. I found myself completely alone and unable to reach out to people I once knew. I made one other friend--Frank--who was also patient and kind during my turbulence. Our friendship survived despite my best attempts to kill it. He has been a true friend from the beginning.

Five years ago I was paranoid that people I knew would find my blog and learn about the "real" me. I thought no one would like me if they knew, because really I didn't like myself then, either.

What an amazing journey this has been. I feel incredibly fortunate for how my life is today. My husband loves me more than I knew I could be loved. We have beautiful, intelligent, healthy, talented children. His salary sufficiently provides for us now. I am settled, happy in my own skin, and proud of my accomplishments. I am no longer desperately flailing. I no longer feel like I'm dying in a desert--I no longer have to cling to every kind word, look, or touch from complete strangers. I have an occasional alcoholic beverage, but never feel compelled to drink away my pain and sorrow. I have reconnected with literally hundreds of friends from my past and am on speaking terms with my family. I have made many new friends online and through the Army.

There are so many steps I would never have made alone. I will be forever grateful to Soldier Boy, Frank, and MicSteve for walking with me through that black pit five years ago. And also for my earliest blog readers who offered kindness, forgiveness, support, advice and encouragement--Brico, Addict, FlyGirl, Monkey, Lime, BT, Os, and the rest.

Five years ago I had absolutely no idea that life could be this fulfilling. I didn't know that others would forgive my mistakes... I didn't know that one day I would forgive myself. My path has been difficult, but entirely necessary to arrive at the place I am today.

Five years ago I was at the lowest point of my life.

Today I am grateful.

Sometimes.

Sometimes, when he has been gone for a while and I am doing well, out of nowhere I am nearly knocked down to my knees with the thought that he might not come home again. This raging, nasty, throbbing pain leaps up out of my chest into my throat and I can hardly breathe.

He's only been gone a week for training. He will be home by the end of the month. It's just that I know what this training is for. I guess we can switch from "reintegration" to "pre-deployment" mode, although I'm not sure we've fully recovered from the last one yet.

It's gonna be ok.

In the Event of my Untimely Demise*

Dear Children:

One day I'm going to die. I'm not gonna lie, I hope you're alive when that happens. No offense, but I would prefer not to put you in the ground first. (Or spread your ashes to the winds, as the case may be.) I really hope you survive me for quite a long while and lead happy, healthy, productive lives. My time could come 30 seconds from nowawr;as235 @#fakkoooooooocx ,bxncxb........



(just kidding!) or 70 years from now, but it's pretty inevitable when you consider the fate of life on our planet.

I'm pretty ok with the idea that I'm not gonna be around forever, except for the idea that I might leave you kids when you still need me. That freaks me the fuck out, quite honestly. (BTW, if I die when you're a minor, I hereby give you permission to drop the f-bomb whenever you want. You still might get in trouble at school, though.)

In an effort to leave you with some sort of farewell, rather than "Oh shit, Mom died in a freak paperclip accident," I'm going to write you some notes whenever the mood strikes. Enough people we love read the blog here to pass this on to you whenever it's appropriate. This way I'm assured that you'll find my words to you eventually. Unless, of course, we are all wiped out together in the Impending Zombie Apocalypse. (Just so you know, I had to spell "Apocalypse" about 5 times before I got it right.)

Braaaaaiiinnnnnnssssss.....

First, I should probably tell each of you that I'm sorry.

Birch, I am harder on you than I probably should be. I'm learning as we go along and I'm trying my damndest to be fair, give you credit where it is due, and leave you enough room to deal with the demons of your early childhood. I am sorry that I am so distant from you emotionally. I love you more than you can imagine. I'm just not so good at showing it. I am trying to do better about that. The distance has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my own demons that showed up before you were ever born. I love you and I'm proud of you for your strength, intelligence, and empathy.

HD, I have so many things to apologize to you for. I made so many mistakes when you were a toddler that haunt us still today. My downfalls prevented me from protecting you and keeping you close to me. My first instinct should have been to keep you safe, but I rationalized and bargained with common sense to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. I am sorry that your life is so difficult, that you are tormented by your father, and that you only get to be here for short period of time. Please know that I love you wholly and that I am working to bring you back home. I'm also sorry I threw the plate when you were 4 and you wouldn't eat. I was wrong. I know you remember it and I want you to know that there was nothing you could have done that deserved me scaring you like that. I was angry at the court system, angry at your father, angry at the Army, angry at myself, and it all came raging out at the wrong time. We have talked about this and you have forgiven me, but I haven't forgotten it and will always regret that action. I love you without end and I hope one day you can forgive all of my mistakes. I am proud of your intelligence and sweetness, even with the shit your dad and I have put you through.

Sprout: You are so much like me that we clash constantly. I love you so much, but I know that we have shared many angry moments. I am sorry that I am not more understanding with your insatiable need for control and independence. You would think that our similarities would be something to bond over, but instead we have some pretty epic clashes. I am the adult, I am the mommy, and I should be the one to avoid those battles. I am sorry for those times that I yell when I lose my patience. I love you so very much. My heart breaks repeatedly when I see your earnestness and how important everything is to you. I understand. Really, I do, and I'm sorry my actions don't always assure you of that. I love you and I am proud of your passion and your unstoppable will.

Crush: My little Boo Boy. I am sorry I don't give you enough individual attention. You seem so independent most of the time that I overlook your need for affection and interaction. I admire how you get right back up after falling down to try things again. You just grunt and keep on going. I often think I haven't given you as much as I gave the older kids, and I'm sorry. I try to remember to slow down and talk with you about things--colors, letters, animals, sounds, music, vehicles... I'm sorry I talk so much to other people and not you. I love you without fail. I am proud of your perseverance, strength, and determination.

Kiddos, I am absolutely certain I hurt you in ways I didn't list here. Please know that any pain I cause you is unintentional. Alas! I am human. I make mistakes and am often misguided and frequently don't find the right answer until way too late. Forgive me. Not for my sake, but for your own. Harboring grudges will only hurt you more.

One day, my darlings, you might seek answers to all sorts of questions (but mainly the answers to Life, the Universe, and Everything). There are lots of places to turn to figure all that out, but I implore you to just be quiet and listen. All of the answers are within your grasp at any moment, if you are open enough to accept them. You might find understanding from a book, but I recommend you find your own path before you follow one prescribed to you by anyone else. Truth, my dears, is self-evident. Anything crammed down your throat is most likely bullshit.

If you ever want to feel close to me, you can find me in the mountains near the rivers. You will hear me in a symphony of crickets. You will feel me in the resonant tones of acoustic instruments. You will find any wisdom I gained in the company of trees.

Don't let losing me--or losing anyone or anything else, for that matter--define your life. Loss is devastating and can become all-consuming. Allow yourselves to heal. Get together and share adult beverages (only if you're of age!) or chocolate and talk about all the ways I am fucked up and laugh at me and our memories and maybe, if you're so inclined, shed a tear or two. Then pick up and keep on going, kids. It'll be alright.

*This does not, in any way, mean that I intend to meet my fate in an untimely manner. I am neither sick nor suicidal, although I am quite accident-prone. I know a passal of children who have lost parents. There are things I want to tell my own kids, even if it has to be posthumously. Writing this particular installation may even make me a better parent today, before my meeting of any type of demise.

Notes to Self

Eat breakfast.

Spending dedicated time with the children being present and attentive makes them less clingy.

Joy, peace, love, and patience are choices you should make every day.

Go make your bed.

Relax. No, really, relaaaaax.

It's not that bad.

Crying is good sometimes.

A little bit every day adds up.

Remember when we used to meditate?

Love you like you love them.

Sometimes other people are right.

Take your iron.

There are biscuits in the oven.

No, really, there are biscuits in the oven. Probably burning by now.

GO GET THE BISCUITS.

More on Wikileaks

It takes me a long time to get pissed. My pissedoffedness is growing daily. This post will be shrill, with lots of cussing.

I just don't see how what was released has any positive impact whatsoever. "Things are worse in Afghanistan than we thought!" Not if you pay attention to the casualty count or read Michael Yon (who several years ago painted this exact portrait of Afghanistan) or love a soldier who has deployed there. I've been pretty fucking aware, quite frankly. Not a damn thing they've said has surprised me.

This is just like when everybody wanted to gawk at families greeting their loved ones at Dover. FREEDOM OF SPEECH!!!! FREEDOM OF THE PRESSS!!!! FREEDOM THIS FREEDOM THAT WE PAY TAXES BY GOD WE SHOULD GET TO SEEEEE IT!!!

So now there are families who allow the press at Dover. How many of those pictures have you seen? How many of those names do you remember? How many make headlines? They don't. 66 troops died in Afghanistan in July. Sixty goddamn six. How many of those people who were screeching "FREEDOM LET ME SEEEE!" know that? Not fucking many. Because once it was no longer controversial, it didn't matter any more. It wasn't about mourning fallen warriors, it was about the incessant need of Americans to watch disaster in the making.

Here we are with Wikileaks, with a whole host of people trying to be "serious" about it, saying it means good things for our nation and it's a victory for transparency and certainly it is the beginning of the end for the war in Afghanistan and are hailing this as some sort of magical key to fixing the corruption of our government. It's "unfortunate" that some Afghans may die because of it, but weren't they dying anyway? So what's a few more, right?

No, indeed, it is not going to fix shit. Not the war, not the government, not one single fucking thing. National outrage doesn't last. And really, the only people who are outraged about the information leaked are the people who have the sense to know how many lives will be lost because of it.

I am a flaming liberal treehugging peacenik hippie. I am disappointed in the Obama administration for not being progressive enough. I save spiders rather than squash them and I cried real, wracking, sobbing tears when they cut down the trees behind my house. I have close friends with whom I cannot say one political word because we ended up shouting at each other (one of them is my husband.) SERIOUSLY.

So don't try to shove me in some Republican/right wing/conservative box because I am not praising Wikileaks and its arrogant, snide, self-serving fucktard of a founder or worshiping Manning as some sort of whistle-blowing hero.

There are serious problems with our government, within the Department of Defense, and with the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Manning wasn't trying to fix any of that. He got his tiny little rocks off by getting his name all over the news through selling people's lives for fame. And Wikileaks couldn't slow down long enough to remove the names of informants because they were about to pee their collective pants with the excitement of notoriety they were about to gain. You can almost hear their drool splash on their keyboards as they got their grimy paws on the documents.

Something needs to be done to address the nation's problems. This was not that something.

I know quite a few of my readers will disagree with me. We're not always going to agree. I feel pretty strongly on this one, though. Again, no personal insults in the comments, or no soup for you.

Let's Chat

I haven't seen any of my military blog-friends post about the whole Wikileaks releasing 90,000 classified documents to the media and then to the world at large (if you have and I missed you, I'm sorry. Life is a little hectic around here lately). I'm not one to avoid sensitive subjects, so I'm busting down the door here. The documents provide detailed information about the Afghanistan war from 2004-2009 and Wikileaks promises that more documents will be released as soon as they scrub "personal information" from them.

This has been weighing heavily on me since the story broke. I've talked with friends on Facebook and I've had long discussions with other folks in comment sections on non-military blogs. It is a hot topic of conversation in our household as we try to make sense of it and worry about the inevitable fallout from the leaks.

I would like to open this up for discussion here, but I have a few things to say before we begin.

Politicians benefit from citizens being polarized. They gain when we are unable to have real conversations about real issues, they profit from us demonizing each other. It is extremely easy to slap a label and all of its stereotypes on people who disagree with us. Let's all agree that we aren't going to do that here, today, aight? No slandering each other, no pointing fingers at one administration or another. This is a serious issue that deserves thoughtful discussion. Let's not allow it to devolve into petty snarky bickering that only serves to distract us from the real business at hand. If we do, the politicians have won! And really, no one wants that.

Respectful disagreements are welcome here. Namecalling, insulting, virtual eye rolling, and finger pointing (and a host of other -ings) are not.

I have always loved Wikileaks. I think an organization which serves as a clearinghouse of sorts for whistleblowers is desperately needed in the world today. Since serious investigative journalism bit the big one in the major news outlets, Wikileaks has provided a much needed service to institutions in many nations. Rooting out corruption in government is in the best interest of citizens.

That said, when this story broke, my heart froze and I immediately wanted to start banging my head on something to dull the fear that overtook my brain. There is absolutely no way that in 90,000 documents (over 200,000 pages) of classified information, all of the stuff that can hurt our troops and the Afghan people was scrubbed out. Last year I attended memorial services for men who gave a smidgeon too much information on unsecured lines of communication.

The amount of information that has just been delivered to the hands of the enemy (the Taliban--the ones who throw acid in the faces of little girls who dare to go to school and who set fire to women who stand up for their rights and slaughter young women who were raped)--will be used against us. There's a reason so many of the details of war are kept classified. Now the enemy knows which of their tactics are most effective, exactly how many of our troops were wounded--where, when and how. They know our routes, tactics, and equipment.

That's not all they know. When my husband was deployed, the Afghan interpreters used code names and worked far from their homes. To protect their families, their real names were never spoken. They were incredibly brave men who risked their lives to help international forces. We attempted to start a humanitarian project to send clothes, toys and school supplies to the children in my husband's region. We were unable to do so because if the kids were caught with even an ink pen from the Americans, they and their families were tortured by the Taliban. It would seem that Wikileaks didn't scrub enough from their documents and they now know the identities of Afghan informants.

I might need to invest in a helmet because I'm not sure how long I can suppress the urge to bang my head on stuff.

Not only will these people pay an enormous price for their courage, now the Afghan people are going to trust us even less than they did before. So much for hearts and minds.

I see this as a failure on the part of several different institutions. First, the label "classified" is abused by the people who have the power to apply it. It is used to cover up a variety of misdeeds on the parts of individuals, groups, and sometimes whole institutions. Its overuse is a clear example of the kind of corruption that Wikileaks attempts to spotlight. When classification is abused, it devalues the label and makes all classified information less safe. Thanks a lot, powers that be. I truly think that all wrongfully classified information should see the light of day. Fuck those asscovering sons of bitches who abuse their privilege.

That said, some information is deserving of its classified status. Wikileaks could have/should have done better. They need to fully understand the line between falsely classified information and information that will cost lives. They will not succeed in the role they have chosen for themselves if they cannot differentiate between the two and choose to protect lives when necessary.

Next, who leaked this? Does anyone really believe that a PFC--even working as an intel analyst--would have access to that much information? Really? If so, I see this as a failure of his entire chain of command. If my staff-sergeant husband can be held responsible when one of his PFCs drives drunk while he's on pass over a 4 day weekend, I'm pretty sure PFC Manning's chain should be held responsible for something of this magnitude which occurred while he was serving in Iraq. Really, though, I don't think the PFC did this, but he will probably pay the price just like SPC Lynndie England and a few other lower enlisteds paid the most for Abu Ghraib.

I am having trouble reconciling what I think about all of this. On one hand, I am glad that some of the stuff that has been released is of the "abusively classified" persuasion. But more than that I'm scared shitless about the stuff that needed to stay secret. I am worried about those Afghan families that will pay for their courage with blood. I am worried for my friends who are in Afghanistan now and for my husband and his comrades who will be back there soon. The release of this type of information in such huge quantities will not be without repercussion.

I am afraid that the shock wave will be felt most keenly on the front lines as usual, and the ripple that reaches the Fuckers on High will not affect them in the least. I am afraid that the American public in general doesn't care about any of this and that they were glad to see the headlines change back to LiLo and Gibsongate. I am afraid that none of this will bring about any positive change. I am afraid that the sector of the population that is cheering the leak don't have a fucking clue about the bloodshed it will cause, and I'm afraid the people who are screaming treason will succeed in silencing whistleblowers of all types.

I am even more afraid to send my husband back to war.

How has this news affected you? What thoughts do you have about its implications for your family, your unit, the nation and the war? What positives, if any, do you see in this situation? Please keep your discussions respectful and free of snark, vitriol, and insults. I'm a dictator here at VB and have no problems deleting comments that don't follow the rules. Practice free speech in your own space if you so choose.

The Tears He Shouldn't See

I don't hide things from Soldier Boy when he is deployed. A lot of spouses do, and that's their choice. No one thing works for everyone. My husband would worry more if he thought I wasn't telling him all the important things that happen here while he's gone.

Until we watched that damned "PS I Love You" movie the other night, I thought I shared everything with him. As tears streamed down my face and I tried to control my breathing so he wouldn't know I was crying, I realized that I do hold something back. There are some tears he just shouldn't see.

He knows how much I fear for his safety when he deploys. We have had many conversations about what I would do if he doesn't return. We have made plans, we have made horrid jokes. (He wants to be stuffed and stood in the front entryway and I can decorate him according to the season). He reads my blog, for cryin out loud, with all the posts that are labeled "I don't want to be a widow." I mean, really, he knows.

But he hasn't seen. He shouldn't see the devastation in my eyes, feel the air leave my body and my knees go weak. He doesn't need the weight of my panic, despair, resolve, and loneliness in his mind as he performs his already difficult ritual.

Midway through the movie he figured out that I was crying. He held me close and I successfully stifled the sobbing. When it was over, I hid my face with my hair and sat outside in the dark until I composed myself. It was the night I listened to the crickets. Afterwards, I took a hot shower and found myself clinging to the cold tile walls for support and to bring me back to the present.

When I was done, my eyes were back to saying, "I love you, I would miss you, but we would be okay." They're not lying--all of those things are true. Those are the things he needs to know when he leaves, when he goes outside the wire, when he does all those things he trains to do.

He just doesn't need to be encumbered by the sight of my heart cracked wide open and bleeding through my eyes.