I’m living in a paradox. As much as I wish spring to get here and melt the snow, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MELT THE SNOW, the arrival of spring also signals the departure of Brisket.
Sooner than I’d like, he’ll be a 7 hour flight away.
A friend asks me periodically how I’m doing with that, then proceeds to launch into a monologue about how she’d be going crazy and throwing things because OMG HOW AM I GOING TO MANAGE? She would probably be a SHELL of her FORMER SELF and just ANGRY ALL THE TIME because IT’S SO UNFAIR.
That’s one approach, I guess.
I tell her that I’m planning on keeping busy. Li will keep me running until 8pm every day, and then I have a list of projects I want to tackle in the long evenings after Li is put down to bed. Making my first quilt. Making more shoes. Building planter boxes for a garden. Exercising. Writing. Reading some classics I missed the first time around. Re-remodeling our bathroom. Finishing all those little projects you put off until you get more time- hanging blinds, paint touch-ups, fixing the fence.
I think a lot of my weekend time will be spent at the Home Depot.
I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. It is going to be hard. HARD hard. And, yeah, I’m anxious about the time away and all the stuff I’m going to have to take on without Brisket around.
But I’ve been here before, and for much longer.
Brisket and I had been dating about 8 months when he was shipped to Iraq. At that point, I knew I wanted to marry him, so it was one of the tougher years we’ve had. Communication with him was spotty at best. Good weeks were an email message each day and maybe a phone call on the weekend- usually cutting out once or twice during the narrow window the phone card allowed. Bad weeks were nothing but silence.
Every day I worried about him. I worried he would be hurt. I worried he would be killed. I worried he had died and I hadn’t hear about it, and then would find out by seeing it on the news. I worried he would come back messed up and the man I had fallen in love with had been lost in the violence.
Every day, for a year, I held my breath. Every day, for a year, part of me was in a desert halfway across the world.
And now? Now we have a beautiful little girl. We have a lazy dog and a little house and plans for the future. And he’s going to a European country for 12 months.
So, yeah, it’s going to be hard. And I might get angry sometimes that I was left behind to deal with everything. But I have some perspective now. I have my daughter now. I have my projects to keep me busy.