There’s a Soldier in My House
I’ll be honest and say that I am not the sappiest person, especially when it comes to my own life. I’ll cry my eyes out at Extreme Home Makeover. I’ll get emotional when one of my brides dances with her father. But when it comes to things that happen in my own life, I tend to try and step away from the emotion, rather than take it all in, for better or for worse. But sometimes things really hit me, and when they do, it hits hard.
The other day I was doing laundry at our house. Folding t-shirts neatly into drawers, rolling up socks in pairs, hanging dress pants… we do a lot of laundry. I walked past our bathroom door and saw Joe’s uniform neatly pressed on a hanger, just hanging there. His name tag, the colorful ribbons on the green fabric, the pins that I know he’s told me about but I always forget what they mean… all of it just quietly sitting on a door inside our happy house. And it hit me. Joe is a soldier. And I couldn’t help but to well up.
I think I was crying because it reminded me that he could be deployed at anytime.
I think I cried because I realized that one day I could end up living in the middle of nowhere South Dakota.
I think I cried because I realized sometimes his life in the military has to come before me.
And I think I cried because I knew that some families don’t get to see that uniform on a hanger very often.
But I know I cried because I am so damn proud of Joe.
That being said, I’m admittedly not always a fan of our country’s decisions, especially when it comes to foreign policy and our relationship with other countries. But I feel pretty lucky that I have that right to vocally oppose my government’s decisions and not be detained. My grandparents weren’t able to do that in Latvia, and my friends in Burma
are still unable to speak their minds to this day.
In some small way, Joe’s uniform reminded me that every single day families across the country make sacrifices. Some make bigger sacrifices than others. I’m very lucky that my “sacrifice” comes in the form of keeping weird hours. Joe’s current shift is 6pm to 6am. He gets home around 7:30am after his PT workout, and sleeps till the middle of the afternoon after his long twelve hour workday and then his required workout. (This has greatly affected my body clock, and I keep very odd hours these days!)
It’s really so strange to be so close to the military (living with a soldier) but also feeling so separated. I think about it a lot.
In the end, all I know is that I am so proud of Joe, his service to this country, and the sacrifices he’s willing to make every day.
Joe, I love you so much, more and more every single day. You were once my speech and debate partner in high school, and now we’re so much more. I am incredibly grateful for all that you do. Happy Birthday, Lovie! *mwah*