They have, you know, my son's handwriting on them...
These trunks hold all of Brian's worldly belongings. The luxury items that he took to Iraq with him, and those he acquired when he was there: His laptop. Books. Magazines. CDs.
They are here now...
...because he is coming home!
::dance, dance:: That's right, Brian and company will be back in the U.S. in one month. His first tour is almost over. I can't wipe a stupid smile off of my face when I write that.
I've known these dates for some time now, but am just now beginning to mention them. Along with crazy glee, the fast-approaching date also, for some reason, fills me with apprehension. There's a weird "don't jinx it!" mindset at play here that both makes my heart race and embarrasses me at the same time. If I tell you, too soon...well...there's still a month left.
Here, after all, are photos that Brian sent me 2 weeks ago. This was the truck behind his, on a recent mission:
It took about a millisecond for this mother's mind to process: If that truck was behind you, then you yourself must have just rolled right over that bomb, or missed it by a...
No one was hurt.
And my boys are coming home. Brian, and his gunner, Stephen Moore, will be stateside in May, and in my home in June. Look at 'em. My little boys; aren't they just precious?
I've decided to stop fretting, and get over superstition and jinxing, and to let you join me: Wait with me, won't you? Make your paper chains, shave your legs, start dusting and stocking the refrigerator.
Brian writes, on his Myspace page, that he is
"ready to get back to the states, drink rum, laugh, and dance myself back to normality with friends and family."Get out your dance card, kids; when he gets here, you're all invited over.
I'll provide the music and a beverage.
And of course...