In about 2 hours I will be leaving to pick up my husband from the airport.
My husband who is deployed, but coming home for a glorious 11-day leave. I just can’t believe it. In fact, I still kind of don’t. I mean, he’s be gone since January. I could be wrong, but I think there’s always a part of you that doesn’t ever expect to see them again. Not in the morbid, “He’s going to DIE” sense (well, maybe a little of that, too) but more in the, “I haven’t seen him in so long, surely I will go the rest of my life without seeing him” sense. Make sense? I didn’t think so.
We’ll be heading right down to the beach house (In Cape Charles, VA!) of some friends at the church who have so graciously lent it to us for the week. Free. Of. Charge. Then, for his second and last weekend here, we’re attempting to spend one day with his family, and one day with mine. Then, it’s back to the desert for 2 and a half more months. No biggy.
I just can’t believe he’s actually coming home.