Side Note:

Side Note:
For those who haven't figured it out, or haven't been here: The titles of most of the blogs here are song lyrics. If you google them, it should take you to the song and the song is good to listen to before, during, or after reading to help set the tone of the blog. I find music to be very cohesive with reading and writing.

Friday, April 15, 2011

It's The Sweetest Thing...

The house smells pretty awesome...The smell of fajita chicken, Spanish rice and beans (from two nights ago) and now the marinated, stuffed chicken thighs from this evening are wafting around mixed with the light sent of roses from my candle. The living room is lit dimly with the light of the lamp my love proffered from someone's curbside drop off and the candle is flickering softly. The television is on, but I'm really not paying much attention. I've been lying with my little puppy writing letters and sketching and thinking about how incredibly blessed I am.
Deployment is really a harsh mix of emotions. It sort of feels like my heart and mind are see-sawing, sometimes together, other times against each other. When I can speak with him I am elated that he's safe and sound and doing well. He feels like he is really fulfilling a purpose and that makes me swell up with pride and a deep inner joy. Other times though, like this past week where the contact was slightly more limited I felt hopeless and desperate. In fact, two nights ago I fell apart completely into a sobbing mess on our med screaming into my pillow. I broke. I finally let out what I kept holding back. Last night I needed to tell my friends here that I am not a rock or pillar. No matter how much I try, I am not truly stone, and beneath this shell is a big pile of mush that needs comfort and consolement and to release just as they do. I know they understood. One of them was so worried when I cried that she insisted on staying at my house with me, which in her present situation (midterms, no driver's license and a car that has decided to die for the fourth time in two months) I think may have been good for her as well.
Each day without a call, each missed instant message, each nightmare that sinks my heart is washed away by the crashing waves of love, passion and emotion when I do hear from him or when a song reminds me of him. When I look at photos of us together, my heart flutters. When I remember the press of his lips, the touch of his hands and the warmth of his embraces I can't imagine how I get by without him right now, but then I just remember that once time flies by and he returns, I'll get them all again.
I believe my chai tea is calling my name, as is my pen and sketch pad...


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