Miss You

Guest Post from Alecia:

I don’t like going in his drawers. Like many married couples, my husband and I don’t share bathroom drawers or sinks or sides of the closet for that matter. I prefer my clothes be separated by color on the hangers and he . . . well he’s a man. ‘Nough said. Still, as I opened his bathroom drawer tonight, it made me a little sad. The scent hit me right in the pit of my stomach, making me even forget why I opened that drawer to begin with. His non-boat toiletries are in there. You know- the ones that really smell like him and not mine; it’s the scent that no one in the whole world can replicate. It’s the last thing I would smell each night and the first each (non-duty) morning. ( I know, I know- try not to puke- try to hang in there with my sappiness).

The last time we were apart for 6 months was when we geo- batched for the 2nd round of sub school. Then, I had my own house and he had his. There were visual reminders of him covering my home, but because he hadn’t ever lived there, his scent was nowhere to be found. This time it’s different. It made me think about our senses and how keen they are. I had steeled myself against hearing our songs, seeing our special photos and was prepared to lose his gentle touch. But to have his smell leap out of that drawer tonight was something I wasn’t ready for. That smell is responsible for the most sentimental post I have ever written and I will probably open that drawer each night until his scent is no longer there.

But like all things in life- you have a choice as to what you make of your experiences. My glass is more than half full. Yes, I miss him. . . already. And yes, the day his socks reappear on the bathroom floor will be a good one. But for now, I like to stop and think of how Blessed we are that this is just a deployment and not an eternity. I will be back in his arms soon and I know that is not the case for many who are writing their own blogs tonight.

So- no pity parties in my bathroom. I will pray for all those women who can only open their husband’s drawers and remember; and I will be thankful we were given the opportunity to serve.

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