As many of you know, Bryan is being deployed this spring to Kabul, Afghanistan. I won't go into when or for how long except to say that it is too soon and too long. A neighbor whose husband has deployed multiple times told me once that it doesn't really matter how long, it sucks regardless.
Bryan is busy finishing up with his current job, training for his trip, and gearing up with a long list of required uniforms and such. This brings new experiences for him, a change of pace, but also an unwanted gap in Calvin's life. I am sure that Bryan is at once sad and excited, nervous and proud, accepting.
Calvin and I are preparing as best we can, though the idea of not having Bryan here every day makes us both a little frantic in wanting to spend every possible moment with him while we still can. Calvin cheers excitedly when it is daddy's turn to put him to bed, and complains quietly when it is mine. I don't take it personally; I totally get it. For me it is our brief moments alone: an occasional lunch date or evenings on the couch watching House of Cards or Game of Thrones that brings a slight panic-y nostalgia: how many more times will I have before he is half a world away? The countdown is getting too short; I want more time. The waiting for it to begin is not easy.
And of course I worry.
February brought weeks of snow that didn't melt, an endlessly cold blanket of air that filled days and nights, telling us that winter also didn't want to let go. I felt continuously conflicted with wishing for the relief of warmer weather and not yet wanting it to be spring. Spring is when he leaves.
We will all be fine - families endure deployments all the time. We are all strong, capable, independent people. We will talk regularly, skype or face time when we can, send care packages and count down the days until he returns. Calvin and I will stay busy and keep to our routine. We'll plan trips to visit friends and family (and lots of roller coasters, per Calvin's request). Time will go quickly.
I know that and believe it. But I also quietly welcome the cold windy days that linger, the snow outside my doorstep, the chilly embrace of a lingering winter that whispers "it is not spring yet".
