Welcome Home!

My Soldier is home!

As we bask in the glow of one another’s company after months spent apart, even with that amazing moment when I first laid eyes on him again fresh in my mind, I am reminded that redeployment takes work.

Did I expect a ride into the sunset with promises of happily ever after, a fairy tale ending to an uncertain time in our lives?

Well, no.

But I didn’t expect for real life to creep back in so quickly, either. Take, for instance, this morning.


As my Soldier sat on the couch, enjoying 72 hours of a well-deserved pass, I was rushing out the door to get to a doctor’s appointment and then to work. 

I consulted my “to-do” list, which consisted of 16 pending items and 34 items I had completed in the 24 hours prior to his return. I felt a little overwhelmed and asked if he would handle two of those items.

Now, I like to think I asked him nicely, but, as I said, I was feeling stressed. “Gruffly” is probably a more accurate description of my tone, which I could clearly see reflected in his eyes the moment the words left my mouth.

I had to remind myself where he’s been, how he’s getting used to being home again.

I apologized.

Yet it struck me that those of us who remain at home are no less jarred by the reintroduction of our Soldiers.

As much as I love him and wouldn’t trade his being home for anything, there are things I already miss about my solitude.

There are big things like getting a good night’s sleep. 

He and I are on different schedules right now, and I am a light sleeper. When he climbs into bed hours after me, it doesn’t matter how quiet he is – not at all – I stir awake.

Then, there are little things like always being in charge of the remote. I have not had to watch the History Channel, Military Channel or SyFy for months. Day two, guess what was back on the air in our home?

Then, there are things that I wouldn’t say I miss, but that have become a habit, like not closing the door when I pee. Gross, but true. There was simply no need.

I had developed a routine. Now that he’s back, I feel like I am doing the same steps, but the music’s changed.

I can’t help but think of those early dance classes I was forced to endure as a young teenager. I would take hold of my partner’s sweaty hands and move one way, insisting I had it right, as he would move the other way, convinced I was doing it wrong.

I realize it’s not a matter of right or wrong, but a matter of rhythm.

It may take awhile, but with practice, I know my Soldier and I will soon be gliding through our favorite dance steps once again. 

Perhaps, we just might learn some new moves along the way.

After all, it takes two to tango. And I’m glad I’ve got my partner back.