To My Hero, On Memorial Day

Two years ago today you came home from the first Iraqi war. What a surreal experience. When you left, I was sure I was going to be a widow, left alone to raise our son. You assured me you would be ok. I watched the news every moment I could. Thankfully, Trey was so young he had no idea what was going on when the other daddys on tv, dressed in desert camouflage, talked about the bombs and firefighting going on. Then, Geraldo told the world where you were. Protesters lined the streets. Yellow ribbons were stolen off people's trees. No one can understand what it's like unless you've been there. No husbands were left on our block. No men shopped in the commissary. The streets were eerily empty. All of our husbands were fighting a war and we didn't really understand everything that was happening. On my 27th birthday, Rumsfield announced it was over. Over! You came home a little over a month later and I never thought we'd be visiting this place again.

Trey will tell anyone who asks that his daddy is in Iraq. Leah touches the image of your face when she sees your picture on the wall. Trey tells me all the fun things you two are going to do together when you come home: Ride bikes, get a pumpkin from the patch, wrestle, and share pudding. Leah will have to meet you all over again. By the time you are able to hold her again she will be running whereas she wasn't even crawling when you left. Will you be ready for tea parties and babydolls? Our little lady is growing up. She took her first steps yesterday. She has pink polish on her tiny toes. She has two new teeth and she finally says mama. Trey is growing by leaps and bounds, his speech perfecting and he's becoming such a thoughtful little boy with a silly sense of humor just like someone else I know.

We are doing ok, day by day. It's been three long months and there are still four to go. We are so proud of you and the sacrifice you make for complete strangers, every day. Do people realize you are covered toe to head while the temperatures rise to 100, 120, 130 degrees? While we sit here, comfortable in our living rooms, with family by our side, no threat of suicide bombs, IED's, or random gunfire, no threat punishment or death for worshipping the god we believe is right, driving, walking without a male escort, VOTING. For this, thank you. May we never take for granted the freedoms we have in our country. Our forefathers have worked incredibly hard to give us the luxuries we have. You, are what our children will learn about in school.

Only eighteen weeks left until we are together again. Bill, you are my best friend, my husband, my hero. So, Until Then...