Wee wee wee, all the way home

This is a 1am post, which is never a good idea. Besides, I’ve completely lost my sense of humor - it’s buried beneath too much stress. Normally I can find even (or especially) the underbelly of life funny, and it really really bothers me that I can’t now. Perpetual sadsacks and lifeforce sappers bum me out, and here I am, suddenly, one of them - and though I can understand why, I’m still bothered. Oh well. Maybe the sun’ll come out tomorrow. And now I’m gonna have THAT stupid song traipsing merrily through my head in pinafore and pennyloafers….

I got an email from Van tonight: very short and to the point. It said, essentially, that he’s sorry he hasn’t written, but that they usually get mortared within thirty minutes of their internet time and have to go to their bunkers. His next sentence was, “But other than that, how are y’all?” I don’t know, Van. My heart pretty much stopped at “mortared.” I had just been thinking today of his last visit, and how stressed he’d felt by how much he had to do, and by all the people who wanted to see him. Jesse said that he’d been too preoccupied right before he left for Kuwait to enjoy the party his friends had thrown for him, and when he thought he’d lost his wallet, he was frantic. I’m thinking of my son’s spirit - his usual peace and calm and solid-as-a-rock personality - and how it’s being altered. I’m concerned he’s going to come home jumpy, with post traumatic stress disorder. I have more to talk to God about now than ever, and in the meantime I’m going to send Van a Thanksgiving package full of happy thoughts, country ham, and pop-top tuna pouches.

And those little, candycorn-like pumpkins. Oh, and peanut brittle….

@ It’s encouraging to think that Scott will be home in around six weeks. He’s returning on the 18th to spend Christmas here, and will head back to Nantucket on January 8th, where he’ll stay until April, with possibly another jaunt home in-between. So I consider this six-week period a trial run. I can handle anything for six weeks, right? From my fingers to God’s ears.

And as always, it helps to write it out - I feel a little better now. Just think, if I didn’t have friends to write to, I’d raise lice in my beard, my toenails would become as thick and yellow as fritos, my fingernails would twist around my hands - rendering me unable to type anyway - and my teeth would eventually curl over my chin so I couldn’t eat. These are the nasty events that writing prevents, and I have you to thank for it. Thankee friends. Thankee so much. xo