One More Sunset

watching the sunsetIn a few short hours you will get on a transport. Even though it is only for R&R, even though the days will fly by and you will have to leave again, you will still be here. Home. Over the course of the next agonizingly long day we will be making banners and smiling and jumping up and down in anticipation.

But last night was calm and quiet. Last night I could feel you being here so strongly that I closed my eyes and hugged myself, wrapped my hands tightly around the curve of my own shoulders, and squeezed myself into believing in a false reality. I was sprawled out in our bed watching the sunset, remembering a similar evening I spent shortly after you left. The sunsets always do that to me – make me sit still and think. Make me sit still and feel.

Resting there it was so quiet that I could hear myself breathing, the inward draw sweeping up the clutter in my brain, the outward push coming from deep inside me, expelling it all out in a cathartic sigh. And again. And again. Soon it was easy to imagine that it wasn’t my own soft, deep breaths. It was simple to believe that my legs, crossed at the ankles, were really ours, tangled and resigned. It was transporting to realize that the air moving around me was light and easy, like the movement of another person in the room.

Out the picture window I stared motionless at the Northwest summer sun. It dropped indolently down past the hills, as the sky glowed and the radiance of light seemed to push the clouds higher and farther away. My face was warm, washed with light, and I felt almost as if. As if…

The clouds transitioned slowly, effortlessly, from cream to honey to peach, and eventually as the light drew down, the sinewy cloud scrolls bunched up and settled on a final color, a deep eggplant backlit with a glittery reflection of unknown color altogether. I heard you protest that it was merely white or pink or purple, and that colors should not be named after foods. I broke the silence, laughing at you, and I startled myself.

picture window

I watched as the sun plunged down over the horizon, and in those last moments of light I imagined each dwindling ray of slipping off my scene and jumping onto yours, half way around the world. I thought about how we were connected, in that moment, by a sun that was straddling between our two worlds, even if only for a short time. Even if I was fighting the urge to fall asleep and you were in that restless place in the early morning just as the sun comes up.

And I cried.

Because the two worlds we are living in are infinitely more distant than seven thousand miles or a pixellated internet connection or time delays or extreme climate fluctuations. The two worlds we are living in are desperately farther apart than I have chosen to think about.

Until now.

Now you’re coming home. Now it matters. Now idealism and patriotism and bravery and steadfastness don’t just sound like words to me. Now I don’t want to be strong or understanding or mature or patient. Now I imagine what you’ve been doing, or try to, and I realize I will never know much more than my imagination can provide. Now I process what I would do, if it were me. And now I think about what that means.

You definitely aren’t staring wistfully at a sunrise somewhere.

I’ve been reading the emails you wrote early on, the ones where you shared with me your impressions, your feelings, and your thoughts. Because I can’t find you in your recent emails, the ones that are only ten words long. The ones that state things but do not describe them. The ones with polite sentiments and a well-mannered official responses to specific questions. The ones that volunteer nothing. The ones I read over and over for a hint of something I’ve missed.

And then I smile. Chuckle, even. Because I realize how much this will be like another first date. Because I realize I am anticipating just who it is that is that will show up on my doorstep. And I’m not quite sure yet, but I think it will be something like the day you came to see me, standing on my parents’ front perch on a sweet summer day in Coronado. The day you finally got the nerve to call me, but got my father on the phone. The day when you showed up in your aviator glasses and your flight jacket on your motorcycle and took my breath away. Forever.

And then I laugh again thinking that as the days of your visit go on, it will be like that first motorcycle ride to La Jolla, the one where I held on to you like you were familiar, even though you weren’t yet. The one where we each had helmets on and couldn’t speak, but communicated in smiles and nods, and understood each other. The one where I tried to look calm and collected even though I was scared and clumsy. The one where you pretended not to notice how scared and clumsy I was, but knew all along. The one where you had a route, knew exactly where you were going, and I was going with you, wherever that was.

Hurry home. I will only watch one more sunset without you …

22 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: One More Sunrise « Witty Little Secret
  2. known to have a naughty mind
    Jul 19, 2011 @ 08:47:09

    Hi Lori,
    You’ve been holding out on us, your description of husband before he was husband instantly made me think of Tom Cruise, the Top Gun version obviously. Made me smile🙂
    Avy xx

    Reply

  3. happyhomefront
    Jul 07, 2011 @ 12:32:07

    I am guessing you won’t be back at your blog for a while – but wanted to drop a note and say 1) how happy I am for you that he is home – and 2) That was one of the most moving and well written blog posts I have ever read. Thank you. All the best to you and your family.

    Reply

  4. Erika @ chambanachik
    Jun 25, 2011 @ 20:30:27

    Gosh, I love this. I felt it all before, and you described it so perfectly.

    Reply

  5. Sarah Roberts
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 14:06:03

    Once again… I’m crying… moved so much by your words. I will be thinking of you and smiling!🙂

    Reply

  6. Gail
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 13:15:56

    And I cried.
    Live, and love, every moment. I know you will soak them up like a sponge.
    Wishing a safe journey for your hubby and a safe haven, back in his arms, for you. Peace. God Bless. Love you, Friend❤

    Reply

  7. sharprightturn
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 12:25:10

    Congratulations on his return…if only temporary. I hope you enjoy the time with him and your family! Best wishes and prayers for you all.

    Reply

  8. Barbara Cabe
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 09:11:31

    Lori forget the outside world these next couples weeks, I’m sure it won’t be difficult! You, Randy and the kiddos deserve some real “family” time away from the day to day life you have experienced these past months. I can only imagine the ache you must feel and so happy you won’t be waiting much longer.

    Reply

  9. wiebemaura
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 07:22:25

    Beautiful, Lori! I’m so excited for you and your family this weekend!

    Reply

  10. Trinity River
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 07:04:55

    I’m so happy for you. Having a spouse return after a long absence really is like a first date. I hope every moment is magical.

    Reply

  11. deyank
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 06:50:54

    What a wonderful post, Lori. He really has a treasure to return to. We’ll understand if you go incommunicado for a few days.

    Bill

    Reply

  12. Big Al
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 06:39:54

    Wow. Talk about taking one’s breath away! What an incredibly eloquent and heartfelt post. Enjoy your time with your hero. You are both heroes to the rest of us.

    Reply

  13. Cynthia Bell
    Jun 24, 2011 @ 06:35:20

    How exciting that your man will be here soon again standing on your front “perch”. But this time it is not merely a date but a closure to such a long separation that has kept your bodies apart. Let the physical and mental entanglement begin!! Bless you Lori as the hours count down!

    Reply

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