Tick Tock

(This has been posted AFTER the fact. I will never post his movement while it is occurring or when he is preparing to move on this blog. OPSEC - for everyone's safety. He is currently home.)


There isn't a single ticking clock in my room, not in the boys room, definitely not in my car, but I hear it everywhere:


Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Everywhere I go I hear it.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

It's a simple, quick "tick". Not like a tongue clicking, or an overly dramatic time scene in some movie, but a quiet, swift "tick." It follows every step.

I am so very excited and impatient and ready. But there is so much more wrapped into the ticking of that clock. Because right now - it seems steady but so very, very slow. Hours and days keep being added rather than subtracted. As each tick brings it closer another change in the plan adds a thousand more. I am waiting. And waiting. And ...

But how quickly will that ticking change when he is home. How quickly each little moment will go by - each precious, tiny, tiny moment. How much will that sound change - becoming louder  - so much more like an annoying clicking tongue. And everything that we will try to do in that small window of time - 15 days - will make is go by so much quicker. I keep saying that next time we will be like other couples - next year we will disappear for those two weeks with just our little family. No one but me, him, and our little boys. Our tiny family. Because when it comes down to it, this time is for us.

I cannot tell you how much I struggle with this - how much I admire those who can turn the rest of the world off for that time period and shut everything else out but eachother. I am not brave enough for that. There are so many people who love this man - who want to see him with their own eyes, and touch him, and know that he really is here. I can understand that because that is all that I want - to see him, to touch his skin and know he is real, he is alive. He is safe. So how can I fault anyone for wanting the same? I can understand it.

But this time is such a precious time - such a vital time - for us to be together. More precious than I think anyone who doesn't live this can possible understand. Because with each tick of the clock, we know that there will be another goodbye. With each tiny moment that we cherish we know that they are limited. And that time is ours - selfish, maybe, but ours.

There will be a goodbye again. This man will kiss his children goodbye - again. This man will walk away from those he loves the most - again. This man will break my heart ... again. And every tick will remind me - as we struggle to fit it all in, to make everyone happy - that that goodbye is closer, that goodbye is eminent. That these moments are the most precious of all moments.

I will see him before me - not as a blurry, digital image - but him. I will touch his hands, his face, his arms, his chest and feel the heart that beats inside of it. For these precious moments I will know that he is real - for another day, for another night - he is alive, he is safe, he is mine. And those moments belong to us.

How selfish. How necessary. How much I can't wait.

He's coming home ... for a little while.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.