Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Cecilia's been gone since Thursday to London to visit her cousin.
I'm having serious withdraws.
She's going to be moving back to the States with her husband a month before my husband gets home. I've already started planning how I'm going to keep my nights full while she's gone: local Italian classes, more running, more devotion to my schoolwork.
A few weeks ago I was talking to my husband about it on the phone and started to get choked up. He said, "Seriously, Nikki? I'll be home a month after that. That's nothing." I whimpered a pathetic I know type noise. "I feel like," he continued, "you're going to miss her more than you miss me."
"You're coming back! She's leaving for good!"
Little army wife tip: Don't tell your husband while he's in Afghanistan (Iraq, Germany, Kuwait, insert your chosen deployment place here) that you miss your friends more than you miss him. It tends not to go over so well.
She'll be home tonight. Hopefully she misses the shuttle from the airport to post so I can pick her up.
I don't talk very much on here about being an army wife. Even though it's a big part of my life (huge actually) it's not one of the things I use to define myself. Christian? yes. Student? yes. Southerner? yes. Reader? yes. Writer? most of the time. Army wife? not really.
I'm not sure if it's the bad connotations that are attached to the stero-typical army wife or if it's that I have enough of being identified as my husband's wife in my non-blog life. Either way, one thing that I do love about being an army wife are the deep friendships that are made. I don't have family within 4,000 miles of here and don't speak the language well enough yet to feel completely comfortable. Added by the fact that if I did have an emergency my family would have to use a passport to get to me. My husband is gone 80% of the time. I'm alone in the truest sense of the word.