The Beginning

Photo by Sam Hood

I didn't know what to do. I found myself standing in my room in my pajamas feeling absolutely uncomfortable. Do I sit? Do I stand? Do I get under the covers? My mind started wandering. I thought about the unopened calendar I'd discovered last night while I counted down the minutes before he left, rummaging through my belongings, looking for nothing, heart beating and absolutely terrified. I'd meant to find a place for it on my wall and somehow more than half the year is gone—what a shame.

They say that "time flies" and my calendar is certainly a fine example. It marks the swift passage of days even in its sealed plastic packaging. So why do I feel that waiting for Chris to return next year, will be as painfully slow as waiting for your next birthday when you're just a kid? I grow tired thinking about it: the lonely nights, the terrifying dreams, the stress and anguish of having no control, and the anger I can't help but feel towards the ugliness in this world that is the cause of his trip.

I later found peace enough to take a nap, thinking about his last phone call to me. He was in Maine, waiting for the plane to refuel and delivering some words of comfort in his absence. He offered me "all the kisses in the world" before continuing on his journey east. His voice was soft, sincere, a heartwarming reminder of why I'm here waiting. Though the year ahead promises a hellish experience, I chose my role and so did Chris. He is a soldier bound for Iraq . . . and I am his girlfriend.