[insert foot in mouth]

Not even one full month prior to The Staff Sergeant's honorable act of compassion [taking me on a much postponed, and ill-deserved rain-check-first-date], I was sitting in a coffee shop prophesying my immediate future.

On July 26, 2007, I wrote:

Apparently someone in the 80's thought it appropriate to "walk five-hun-dred miles", while The Plain White T's are currently crooning hipster lyrics about love and distance - not to mention the military sweethearts that are definitely feeling the stretch. If there are songs and books, and an entire branch of the US government that is valiantly surviving the dreaded plague of separation, I guess it can't be all that impossible.

[eerie, really]

This morning I was reminded of this archived post after Site Meter so kindly pointed to the curious individual in Somalia searching Google for...hope? inspiration? reassurance? I actually don't know - love with distance lonely worry.

Back in July I was much more than unsuspecting, in fact, the reference to the tribulations of the military was spurred only from a close friend of mine whose voice inferred the struggle across long-distance phone connections. It was almost one of those totally selfish, "Whew, glad it's not me!" mentions. But life has one hell of a sense of humor as it would seem. I'm now one of those "valiantly surviving the dreaded plague of separation" and though sometimes I wish that I could close my eyes and click my heels and have him home, sweet home, it really isn't an impossible feat when you understand the value of what you have.

Again, a bit redundant, but it made me laugh - the irony of my arrogant self, that is. Maybe this will reach Somalia. Maybe it will help to bridge the loneliness and worry.

consistency

I've finally rebounded enough to live once again in some semblance of normalcy. I still become engulfed by fits of coughing, and I tend to tire a bit more easily, but I can sleep on flat surfaces instead of last week's rising range of pillows [to keep the mucus flow maintained]. I can work an entire shift, sit through a day of class, and can sleep without the aid of medicinal remedies.

[relief.]

Everything else is also back to the usual, current state. I quickly readjusted to the single-dating life I left last week and it feels like a dream to have seen him, to know his environment as fact over imagination. Perhaps I put the thought of his skin against mine out of my head on purpose. A numbness about the separation makes it more bearable to be away from the object of one's true affection.

I've spent too much time focussed on these subjects. They have been somewhat overpowering in my presence, though.

...on another note, outside tiny flecks of glittering snow fall beneath street lights. As always I am hopeful for a day off due to inclimate weather. I'll not hold my breath, but I might cross my fingers.

It's short and choppy, but at least it's something to say I'm here. The bed calls, it's been a long day.

Upon returning.

"What is to give light must endure burning." - Viktor Frankl

It wasn't until the landing gear, in a mechanical moan, released itself from the plane's belly that I knew I wasn't ready to be home yet. I made it through the drop-off an hour and 20 minutes prior without tears only now to fight them off as I sat sandwiched between two unfriendly, self-engaged passengers. I was four-weeks fine having forgotten the true delicacy of our fingers entwined, of his playful gazes followed by smiles that I always question, of his off-the-cuff obscurities that don't quite convey over the phone. Like a candy from childhood that locks your jaws in immediate recollection, there he was waiting for me when I turned the corner...all of him, all of the whole of him, and as predicted, every ounce of possible anxiety dissolved. I wanted to be nowhere else in the wide world than in a bathroom doorway of an airport, wrapped in his arms.

He eventually was able to pry me from his neck in order to retrieve my circulating suitcase. After leaving the airport, we dined on Italian, we drove back to his temporary dwelling, we forgot about everything beyond our four walls.

Saturday was busy for both of us - he with an unexpected work obligation, and I with some collegiate business. By early afternoon we were finished with worldly distractions and able to get back to a vegetative state of doing what we do best together - nothing. Later we were off to dinner again and a movie that I won't suggest [Vantage Point]. Following the film and an unexpected run-in with a friend of his, we headed "home". Having already exhausted my still recovering body, I curled up next to him, cheek planted against his chest and blissfully fell asleep.

Sunday was as Sunday's should be. Some couples define "their thing" as a hobby or a mutual interest. Ours is pure laziness on the sabbath characterized by unusually large breakfasts and laying in bed for numerous, slothful hours. Even being away, Sunday followed suit...sleeping in, ridiculous laughter, waffles, no make-up. It was perfect, perfect, perfect.

Now I'm home again, void of the key element of the place. He remains [there] and will be for a number of weeks still, and I find myself back at the start of another one I can begin striking off the calendar of time apart. Time is so temporary a thing that it passes with each breath, each blink of an eye, every second mounting into minutes, into hours and days, and soon enough he'll be back, too. I sometimes question whether or not I really am strong enough, and then 48 hours of my life with him resounds with the deafening truth of will. Without fail, I will pick off each day that stands between us with determination because some things are too good to be waywardly discarded [even when they're really hard].

And so it is...

I found this little gem at shoeboxblog.com [and it made me laugh]:

Top Five Reasons Why February Doesn’t Suck:
By Chris
1. The weather. No, that’s wrong.
2. Summer vacation is just around…no it’s not.
3. You can start wearing…wait. No you can’t.
4. Valentine’s Day was happy. If you were already happy.
5. It’s two days shorter than the other months. But not this year.

This flu thing is really wearing me down, thus to illustrate my state of mind, I begin with a very cynical, yet clever top-5 list. I am feeling somewhat that way myself as of late. We are now into day 7, yes, SEVEN! of this delightful influenza journey and I've exhausted all patience with my body's lack of wellness and the inabilities I am face as I try to get back into the swing of work and school. I basically feel like the wee little scrawny kid who gets beaten-up every day for his lunch money. I'm just waiting for the parent-teacher conference that quells the daily ritual.

Tuesday I attempted two classes. Sitting effortlessly and immobile, what could be so hard? By the end of the second, I was practically asleep on the desk as all of my insides pleaded to go back to bed. I went home to nap for four hours and called it a night shortly thereafter. Wednesday I was shocked to awaken to an unfamiliar "whole human" feeling that had seemingly replaced that of the "walking dead." I demanded that Work let me come in for a half day, which entailed sitting in a chair recording inventory...yet again, my body failed me. I was asked to leave after four hours.

I'M READY TO BE WELL DAMMIT!

So here I am, still trying to ease into the routine I hated last week and that I now fantasize about today...oh, to be able to stand for an entire 8-hour shift of work, or to sit without struggle through my long academic Tuesday's.

It truly takes so little to rearrange a person's perspective. It seems that I am continually shown that lesson both with the trial of the army and those [evil] forces of nature and Her "Flu Season."

One of my biggest motivators for feeling well, or at least looking as though I feel well is tomorrow's flight. I'll be leaving [...on a jet plane] late Friday afternoon for a weekend retreat with The Staff Sergeant. I'll be honest, four weeks has seemed very long, not necessarily with grueling connotations, rather with dissipating ones. It hasn't been much of a battle, yet it's heartbreaking to realize how much of Us seems to have transitioned into a vaporous and intangible form, save that daily phone call. I've talked with my girlfriends who are in the midst of The Great Divide and have watched as they anticipate brief homecomings. I don't know how they do it and ever let him leave again. I'm uncertain what kind of person that makes me, but even now with two days to take him in, I can't help being worried that my return will be harder than even his initial departure. There is something to be said for the milestone marker of X weeks down and X to go, but the ones lying between now and then still lie between now and then. Seeing his face again will surely melt away any apprehensions in my heart, it's just...time will pass all too quickly, being in his presence will feel like a tease.

And so, tempted as I am to curse the stars, life happens for reasons beyond me. Even when it seems that nothing good can possibly be the result of sickness, distance or even February, there are always little glimmers of silver linings to either be found or forged.

I'll work on being mindful of that notion.

Flu, be gone!

As I sit down here with a cup of spearmint tea and honey many subjects come to mind.  They begin traveling down the synaptic gateways to anxious, waiting fingers, yet for none of them do I have the state of mind or energy to write.  The fingers must further be deprived...my mind's medicinal fog has yet to clear, I am still weary.

In what seems like The Era of Influenza, I have been battling the viral beast.  I'll post more when everything is clear again and I have the energy to focus.

If one might measure the night before by the hangover that follows it, last night was a true success!

Thank God for ibuprophen...

"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom." - W. Shakespeare

Soon I'll be embracing the possibilities of the open road. I'll be caffeinated and en route to Atlanta, Georgia. I've mentioned my army-girlfriend-shortcomings many times and also how I feel as though I stumble [often] through attempts not to throw tantrums when the army works against my ideal plans. This is the opposite of that. This is a defining moment in proactivity. I have a friend from high school who grew up and married an army officer. In case you weren't aware, this whole war thing, regardless of your take on it, bodes inconvenient for holidays. That said, my date for Valentine's Day is a hot army wife in Georgia who inspires me to be less of child as I learn the ropes of military life one awkward step at a time.

Instead of feeling blue, I'll be belting out lyrics to love songs in-sync with my iPod's driving mixes. I'll be thankfully recalling the premature Valentine's celebration the Staff Sergeant and I indulged in before he left. I'll re-read the "happy valentine's day, I love you" text he sent long before I began to stir this morning, and I'll be looking forward to a girl's night out as both of our men have dates with Uncle Sam.

And to you, my friends, I wish all the best and lots of love!

Happy Valentine's Day!