Perhaps it was the chill that stirred me from restless sleep, except that on one side of me was my dog and huddled against my other leg was my tabby cat, not to mention the oversized hoodie I'm still wearing, stolen from The Staff Sergeant's closet.
Before pushing back the covers I laid still, trying to recall the last time I had gotten up before sunrise. It was prior to his leaving, all those mornings of PT, incessant snoozing of his cell phone alarm in the darkness, a reason to pull in closer to him, just a few more minutes. It was the first memory in at least a week that I didn't snarl at or hold at arm's length. I let myself feel it, the up and down of his chest, how warm his body would be beneath the covers, the way he would eventually ease away from my arms, trying not to wake me up as he headed for his closet or a shower, his first-thing kiss meant to be so weightless that I wouldn't really notice, not until the one before he left for the day.
I know better than to fight these circumstances; losing is inevitable. The army will always win. Similarly, my emotions will always trump an attempt to hold them down for the sake of looking the part. I miss him like crazy, some days so much that I don't know what to do with myself. And I assure you that there are things he is perfectly capable of and willing to do to help make this easier for me. It's just a matter of having enough time on the phone to work it out, and maybe not being disconnected next time.