I bought a few new shirts yesterday on clearance at Target. Two were maternity, but one was a long tunic with a waist that I decided was a good look for picking G up in. The days keep on counting down, and I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. Sadly, this is also the time that passes the slowest. The minutes drag on, the seconds seem like eons.
It's easy to say that my husband has been safe, that because of his job it was low risk. But when the helicopter in Afghanistan was attacked earlier this month my heart stopped a bit. My husband flies in helicopters often. I was worried about the convoys, had never though to consider the helicopters. So I've been a little on edge any time he travels (which is every week).
I don't know how those who lose their spouses do it. How they handle the physical aches that come from missing being held, from finding yourself turning in the night to curl up on a body that isn't there. How quickly you forget the smell of someone, that has to be the worst.
It will take everything in me not to make a fool of myself at the airport. To avoid bursting into tears or running and jumping (something that we did a lot of before, but I'm thinking would be a mistake in my present condition). I'm looking forward to just standing there and drinking his face in.
So getting him home will be the best thing ever. We're planning on turning Jemima (our Garmin, she's a Brit lady) to avoid highways and drive backroads home, just enjoying being together. Maybe I'll pack a picnic and we can stop along the side of the road and just breathe. That breath that's been held for so very long.