Until next time

Most of us have experienced the signs.  It starts with a strange sensation in the throat, a feeling that you want to swallow but you just can’t.  You’re not really sure what it is yet, there’s a lump that seems to be growing.  Then your nose twitches as you try to breathe more deeply so that the feeling goes away.  But when the eyes start to blink and feel warm and wet as they do when the sun is too bright on a lazy day at the beach or a crisp morning on the slopes, you recognize the signs.

Then the battle begins.  Your amazing wife is doing her best next to you on the drive to the airport to hold in her emotions and the wonderful girls in the back are quiet now, no more chatting about nothing that important to avoid talking about saying goodbye.  It’s only a couple of miles and the airport signs are everywhere now that tell you there are only a few precious minutes left. 

After a what seems like an hour of quiet I tell Marianne, “Hey, don’t forget to send me pictures when you ride.”  What shallow words, I think to myself, as I look for anything to say to break the tension.  We all know what we’re thinking and feeling, and the sullen “Ok, daddy” response makes me feel worse.  Caitlin demands, “Daddy, you have to send more videos!” and I realize that for the next few months, that’s all the personal contact we’ll have.  “Ok, I’ll try,” I reply knowing full well how bad my internet connection is and that it’s a promise I’ll likely break.

The terminal is in full view as I'm trying to will the car to head to arrivals instead of departures as we turn off to the terminal.  “Ok, quick hugs, no long goodbyes, I’ll be home before you know it!”  No response, but I didn’t really expect any.  The car pulls up to the curb and we all hop out, grab my bags and put them on the side, and then hug and kiss each other goodbye.  It’s easy not to say much when there’s nothing worth saying that hasn't been said in the past few hours.

These last few, quiet minutes speak volumes about our family and what we feel about each other.  We don't hear the hushed din of traffic or the bustle of people moving in and out of the terminal.  What can be clearly heard is Caitlin’s nervous giggle, Marianne’s labored “goodbye” and Carrie Lou’s stifled sniffle.  One, two, a dozen hugs later and we’re all holding it together pretty well. 

The girls hopped back in the car, a couple of hugs and kisses more, then Carrie Lou pulled away from the terminal with Caitlin nearly out the window.  She kept waving and yelling "Goodbye!" long after she could see me.  A deep breath, a wipe of my eye and I turned into the terminal to start my long journey back to Afghanistan.

I told the girls I'd be home before we knew it.  I wish I believed that.