It was a dreary, cloudy, cold day. The sun was trying to peek through the ominous clouds, but they were determined to keep its warmth and light hidden. It is almost as if Mother Nature knew what today was, and wanted to share her sentiment. I have been dreading this day for months. Too many sleepless nights to count, spent awake hoping and praying that the circumstances would change, turning this day into just another ordinary day; but they haven't, and here we are.
I thought I had mentally prepared myself for this day, tried not to dwell on it, and up until now, I was doing a pretty good job. I have never questioned why he is going, and I do not feel sorry for myself, because I know that I am part of a very special extended family, and have more support than I could possibly hope for, yet there is a nagging feeling somewhere in the back of my mind, or my heart, determined to destroy my strength. Despite that sensation, I have mustered up the courage to quash that reaction, and move on.
I hate that color. That drab, washed out faded green. Especially today. I know that after tomorrow I will miss it. I will go through his closed just hoping to find something, anything, that color. Today that color doesn't bring peace to mind, but in the days to come, having that color around will be comforting to me, making me feel closer to him while he's gone.
Everything is packed and ready to go. his gear, the baby's stroller and a teddy bear, ad as we head out the door for what promises to be the most difficult day that I have ever had to endure, I pick up one more iten that will prove to be a calming object later in the day. The silence and uneasiness could be cut with a kife, but it is what keeps us from the overwhelming emotions that are racing through our minds.
Traffic is horrible, as usual. Lines of cars travel in the same direction, and of course being in the frame of mind I am in, I equate it to cows headed for slaughter. Hard as I try to shake the feeling of negativity, trace amounts remain, leaving a hollowed-out feeling in the pit of my stomach.
We're here. That didn't take nearly as long as I had wanted...but we're here. I would rather be at the dentist having a root canal, but I've known this day was coming, and there is no way around it. We enter the huge gray building, already filled with families and friends.
Green....as far as the eye can see. That ever familiar feeling of nausea that coincides with that color rushes over me briefly. I wonder if everyone else feels the same about that color? It's obvious that some shades are a little brighter and fresher than others, signifying that some ofthose that wear the uniform have been around for a while. I see so many young faces; some with excitement on their faces, some with uncertainty, and others with fear.
The Chaplain is here, giving support and comfort to those that are having a difficult time. He's praying with a man, trying to ease his anxiety. I am too busy with the baby to really let my true sentiment out, but's keeping my mind off the inevitable. Children run around with balloons and spilling bags of popcorn, oblivious to the significance of this day. They are lucky in that respect. I would rather not know what is going on either. Their contagious laughter breaks the tension, causing a number of people to join in their amusement. If they only knew that their mothers and fathers were willing to give up for them.
Fire we smell that all too familiar smell; diesel fuel. The pungent, nostril burning aroma is all too recognizable. We know that that means. They are starting the humvee's. The dull, rumbling sound of the engines can be heard over the children's laughter and the sounds of patriotic music in the background. Then we hear it; that sound...the one we all knew was coming, but couldn't bring ourselves to prepare for. That definitive bell indicating that it was time to go. Then...silence.
For a moment, I felt like someone kicked me in the gut, and I lost my breath. I nearly choked on the lump that had instantaneously formed in my throat. I quickly searched for my husband, kissed him, told him how much I loved him and how very proud I was of him. He hugs the baby, trying to fight back the tears. My son is too young to understand what is happening, but he senses something, quickly becoming uneasy, and begins to cry.
The men and women form their lines, gear loaded, ready to embark on this incredible, terrifying journey. I hate that color, but as I look past men and women to find my husband one more time, I see something that makes my heart flutter, and causes an indescribable feeling that momentarily replaces that dull ache in the pit of my stomach. Flags. American flags, displayed by families, and by soldiers. The tiny flags that they children are waving remind me that I too have my own symbol to wave. I reach into the diaper bag and retrieve that little item that I knew would make me feel better. I proudly wave Old Glory which suddenly makes that awful green look soothing. We rush to wrap our kids in their blankets, or quickly put their coats on, so we can walk the troops out to their awaiting vehicles.
I start to cover my face with my stars and stripes scarf to hide the beginning of what will most likely turn into a very ugly cry, when I realize that there is no reason to hide these emotions. Everyone here is going through the same roller coaster of feelings and that is perfectly alright, nothing to be ashamed of.
As the soldiers pass, I thank each and every one of them for their service, for their sacrifice, and for their love of this country. I know what they are doing is right and just, and I am comforted by the fact that they do as well. I will leaves this place with the knowledge that I am free, safe, and part of a family of wonderful individuals that make up this amazing group of United States Army men and women. God bless them and their families, and peace go with them.
Kaci A
2006
