Technically, I actually woke up to a text with this picture from Lukas:
It did make me laugh. ANYWAY.
About 45 minutes later, when I finally decided I could sleep for an hour longer before I had to get ready for work, my phone rang. My heart skipped beats. The six numbers flashing on my screen that would look so foreign to anyone else sent a wave of excitement that only the anticipation of talking to Ethan can bring. I wish I could articulate how special those phone calls are.
I never really understood what it meant to take things for granted until now. I've always been able to just call my husband, no matter what the reason is. Now, I find myself making little notes on a sticky note so that I don't forget to mention something when he calls. Whenever that may be.
E didn't sound himself this time, which was disheartening. I mean, his voice was normal but he just sounded down. I'm not saying that he should sound perky to be where he is, but it would make me feel better to know he's in better spirits. It's not all about me, obviously, but I can't help but worry harder when I know he's unhappy. I'm praying that when he gets to his FOB, he'll be able to have a more steady schedule and feel better about what's going on. I sent his first care package this past Saturday, so hopefully it won't be too much longer before he gets it and maybe that will help some.
But even when he sounds a bit down, there's nothing better than hearing him say, "I love you." Realizing that we're already three weeks into this deployment helps a bit, too. I've always been so aggrivated when he talks about what he wants to do when he comes home as far as work and school goes, because there's no need to worry about it but I think it's really an outlet for him. It gives him something to focus on and something to really work to come home to.
Thirty minutes passed way too quickley, and before I knew it, he was off the phone. I think that the hours immediately following a phone call are the absolute hardest to get through. I know that no matter how many times I look at my phone, there's a slim chance it will ring for the next few days. My mind creates a hundered worst-case scenarios before then, and the news will not take a few days off to spare my feelings the harsh reality of the war.
Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade hearing his voice for anything in this world, and I mean anything, but that doesn't always make it easier. It's an all around sucky situation that I just can't wait to be done with.
So now I've had my phone call for the next few days and it's on to waiting with bated breath for the next one. I never tire of hearing, "hey bug," as soon as I pick up the phone, knowing that for at least half an hour the world will be right.
Three weeks down, and (give or take a few) 33 more to go...
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