I remember the conversation like it was yesterday.
My beloved soldier and I were preparing to take the plunge into wedded bliss. Our entire courtship had essentially been long distance, which included a 12-month deployment to Iraq.
We were in the single digits until our day of nuptials. I had stars in my eyes; my heart pounded when I saw him in uniform. I was crazy about this guy and would do anything for him. It was wonderful.
Until that one conversation.
We are currently stationed at Joint Base Lewis McChord, Washington, which is known for several things: temperate climate, massive amounts of coffee shops, and of course—rain.
My husband and I love it here. The rain doesn’t bother us too much because, really, we don’t get more rain than most places, it just falls more frequently. Typically just a small, gentle drizzle. Rarely is the rain a show stopper.
I think most of us have a certain “color” we look good wearing. My color is green. This revelation was rather odd to me, because green really isn’t my favorite color (Infantry blue, baby! #America). But, for some odd reason, green just works on me, and right now, we are in a season of spring. Things are fresh. New. Blossoming. Green. Unfortunately, my favorite shirt, husbands ACUs, and grass in the backyard aren’t the only things that are green in my life. Sometimes, my attitude is a bit green, leading to my green dream.
My husband is an infantryman.
I believe he chose this MOS because of the opportunity to serve, the thrill factor, and the challenge that comes with boots-on-the-ground-kicking-in-doors-and-taking-names.
Plus, he loves the color blue.
Recently, however, I have learned another interesting piece of his genetic service member make-up.
If you’ve been a military spouse for at least a few days, you probably know that this life is a little unpredictable. Somedays, it makes us happier than a 5-year-old at Christmas, then a few moments later, we crumble into big, smoldering pile of ugly-crying heartbreak. It can be exhausting, I tell you. In my personal journey as the spouse of my beloved infantryman, my emotions have stretched from enthusiastic optimistic to Debbie-Downer pessimistic of epic proportions.
It comes around every 365 days, the time where folks make a resolution instead of a goal.
We gather up the remnants of the holiday decorations and pray that all of the stuff fits back in the box. We reflect. We hope. We dream about all things new. Specifically, the new year.
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