I got up the nerve to go.
It took a bit. The invitation came a couple of weeks ago and I debated whether or not I should. But I responded to the RSVP and here I am – putting on the glad rags and waiting for the sitter.
I normally get really excited when we go out without the kids. Then again – I’m usually not heading out alone.
Usually he’s all ready standing at the foot of the stairs as I finish up some last minute preparations and he’s yelling at me to hurry up. Funny the things you miss.
The party is semi-formal. I’ve already run through three pairs of nylons and I sigh as my fingers go through the fourth. Socks and boots it is.
Looking in the mirror I long to hear him tell me how I look. He always says the same thing – “it’ll look better on the floor when we get home” – I smile despite the fact no one has spoken.
I’m zipping my boots as the sitter arrives. The afternoon snow has turned to freezing rain – it could be a slow drive in.
I pick up my “date”. A friend of Rick’s who has agreed to accompany me so I don’t wind up sitting at a table full of strangers.
The parking lot is packed as we arrive. Walking and sliding over the slushy, icy snow is not fun. I’m a klutz at the best of times. And I pray I don’t fall on my butt.
The Legion is warm. I put my coat away and get checked in. We’re at table 18.
I scan the room. I recognize maybe one person every 15 or so. I’m glad I didn’t come alone. There’s nothing worse than a party full of strangers.
I gravitate towards Rick’s friends. It’s good to see them. Everyone has been so busy this fall that I’ve done little more than to speak with them on the phone. It’s good to tease and talk to friends. I wish Rick was here.
Meal over and speeches begin. There’s always that one drunk idiot who makes an ass out of himself. I think it could be worse. I could be that guy’s date.
The Battery Commander and the Padre head to our table – we’re the deployed wives after all. Rick usually doesn’t let me speak to anyone over the rank of Lieutenant. His Commanding Officer once asked me, after Rick spending weeks in the field, how I liked being an Artillery wife – and I told him. Ever since then he’s kept me and the senior officers separated.
I grin and decide to get my picture taken with the Major and the Padre. Just for Rick.
The BC asks how our family is coping. I tell him that the MFRC is great – but 4AD needs to get on the ball and support the women more.
As if in echo to my sentiments to the BC, several of Rick’s friends ask me how I’m doing and tell me if I need anything to just call them. My smile is genuine but strained. I’m glad I came – but it’s time to go.
Being around Rick’s unit makes me feel both closer to him and further away. If I don’t leave now I’ll cry. A few stops to say good-bye to a few folks and I’ve collected my jacket and am headed for the door.
Just before I open it I remember something. Jim Reid is here – he’s with Rick in Afghanistan and is home on his HLTA. I search the room for him and make a beeline in his direction.
“Jim!” I yell over the music. He looks in my direction. I plant a kiss on his cheek. “Make sure my husband gets that.” And with a smile and a Merry Christmas to the folks at Jim’s table I leave the party.
As I walk to the car I realize I’m humming. Maybe the party was just what I needed.
Day 109
It took a bit. The invitation came a couple of weeks ago and I debated whether or not I should. But I responded to the RSVP and here I am – putting on the glad rags and waiting for the sitter.
I normally get really excited when we go out without the kids. Then again – I’m usually not heading out alone.
Usually he’s all ready standing at the foot of the stairs as I finish up some last minute preparations and he’s yelling at me to hurry up. Funny the things you miss.
The party is semi-formal. I’ve already run through three pairs of nylons and I sigh as my fingers go through the fourth. Socks and boots it is.
Looking in the mirror I long to hear him tell me how I look. He always says the same thing – “it’ll look better on the floor when we get home” – I smile despite the fact no one has spoken.
I’m zipping my boots as the sitter arrives. The afternoon snow has turned to freezing rain – it could be a slow drive in.
I pick up my “date”. A friend of Rick’s who has agreed to accompany me so I don’t wind up sitting at a table full of strangers.
The parking lot is packed as we arrive. Walking and sliding over the slushy, icy snow is not fun. I’m a klutz at the best of times. And I pray I don’t fall on my butt.
The Legion is warm. I put my coat away and get checked in. We’re at table 18.
I scan the room. I recognize maybe one person every 15 or so. I’m glad I didn’t come alone. There’s nothing worse than a party full of strangers.
I gravitate towards Rick’s friends. It’s good to see them. Everyone has been so busy this fall that I’ve done little more than to speak with them on the phone. It’s good to tease and talk to friends. I wish Rick was here.
Meal over and speeches begin. There’s always that one drunk idiot who makes an ass out of himself. I think it could be worse. I could be that guy’s date.
The Battery Commander and the Padre head to our table – we’re the deployed wives after all. Rick usually doesn’t let me speak to anyone over the rank of Lieutenant. His Commanding Officer once asked me, after Rick spending weeks in the field, how I liked being an Artillery wife – and I told him. Ever since then he’s kept me and the senior officers separated.
I grin and decide to get my picture taken with the Major and the Padre. Just for Rick.
The BC asks how our family is coping. I tell him that the MFRC is great – but 4AD needs to get on the ball and support the women more.
As if in echo to my sentiments to the BC, several of Rick’s friends ask me how I’m doing and tell me if I need anything to just call them. My smile is genuine but strained. I’m glad I came – but it’s time to go.
Being around Rick’s unit makes me feel both closer to him and further away. If I don’t leave now I’ll cry. A few stops to say good-bye to a few folks and I’ve collected my jacket and am headed for the door.
Just before I open it I remember something. Jim Reid is here – he’s with Rick in Afghanistan and is home on his HLTA. I search the room for him and make a beeline in his direction.
“Jim!” I yell over the music. He looks in my direction. I plant a kiss on his cheek. “Make sure my husband gets that.” And with a smile and a Merry Christmas to the folks at Jim’s table I leave the party.
As I walk to the car I realize I’m humming. Maybe the party was just what I needed.
Day 109
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