It wasn’t the two missed birthdays in September.
Or the missed birthday in October.
It wasn’t Trick or Treating with friends and not me.
It wasn’t Parent/Teacher Conferences as a single parent.
It wasn’t having to carve the Thanksgiving turkey herself.
It didn’t even seem to faze her to spend our anniversary
apart.
We were together at Christmas and apart again by New Years.
It wasn’t missing her birthday in February.
Or Valentine’s Day that soon followed.
She was a Hockey Mom that spent the children’s entire hockey
season flying solo.
And it wasn’t any of the major milestones that I missed that
made her miss me any more or any less.
You know what it was?
It was the normal.
Fifty days before I rotate back to the real world and my
wife finally misses me. She needs me there to wash the dishes. She needs me
there to clean out the freezer. To take out the trash. Michele wants me home to
help with homework and put the kids to bed. She’s been as positive and
supportive as one could possibly be without being diagnosed as cheerfully
insane. She has stood steadfast in her convictions that she is strong enough
and our relationship is healthy enough to work through a twist in the road of
Life.
I admire her courage.
I constantly thank God for her strength and devotion.
She’s played it tough for a long time now.
And I recognize the daily sacrifice that the woman of my
dreams has made.
I left in the Summer and missed all of Fall. Winter has come
and gone in Minnesota and now Spring is in the air.
Michele finally misses “normal”.
Me too.
I love you, Five.
See ya in 49 and a wake up.
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