extensions

When a civilian hears the word "extensions," what is their first thought? Hair extensions? Tax file extension? Maybe something else... I can't be sure. It's been some time since I've felt like a civilian, even though, technically, I am a civilian.

When the Army community (I'd include the other branches, but this epidemic seems to only be affecting the Army) hears "extension", our response is automatic. We don't think of Paris Hilton and how it's possible for her to have really short hair one day, and long locks another. No, our response is automatic... fear grips, and desperation clings to the back of the throat. We hold our breathe while battalions, brigades, and sometimes, divisions are announced. In some instances... none are announced. This just leaves us thinking of hope. Praying... it's not us, it's not our neighbors, it's no one that we know... that is "extended". Then again, how can we not fret for our "brothers and sisters"? How can we not?

Our response is automatic... tour "extensions". We hate them. They come at the most inopportune time: anytime.

The worst thing about the announcement of "extensions"... is when we hear it on network news. When we haven't been given the respect of knowing before the general public knows... my mom knew before I. This is a serious flaw in the dissemination process. You may, or may not, recall this post last November in which I expressed my excitement for the changes to come. The announcement of "extensions", does not bode well for my attitude towards the Secretary of Defense... no, it does not.

Excitement does not linger. It loiters. It pisses me off. I haven't the official "your husband's unit will deploy for 15 months" confirmation yet so it leaves wanting and waiting once again on my freaking doorstep. It's banging on the door and ringing the bell... it's turning hope into anxiety, and loyalty into regret. It doesn't even wipe its feet! It's inconsiderate. It doesn't lay off when I close my eyes at night and attempt to sleep... it fights the muscles in my eyelids... forces my eyes to roll underneath...

"We don't know... what we don't know." I hate that answer.

waiting to hear the best words, and waiting to breathe

I had a dream... I had a dream about my wonderful husband... It was lovely. I won't go into the details; you don't want to imagine them. I woke, and I swear, just as the sky is blue, I heard Matthew say, "Hey Hon?"

Two words that didn't carry very much weight.

"Hey Hon?" As if he were looking for his brown socks, phone charger, or shoe polish.

Words that have more of a hidden meaning than "I love you." Words that let you know... all is normal, or, as it should be, at least.

"Hey Hon..." as he begins a sentence that ends with his adoration of my "pretty little doe eyes."

Oh how I've missed the every day of love life... the every day ordinary...

"Hey Hon... do I have any clean shorts?"

When he says "hey hon," I can feel, with the breath he takes before speaking, how much he loves me. And, I am thankful.

"Hey Hon..." And we've picked up... like we never "left off".

"Hey Hon? Want some popcorn?" "...let me get you some coffee." "...what's my mom's telephone number?" "...does the car have gas?" "...want to go to a movie?" "...I love you."

Two words that didn't used to carry much weight... words I'd pay to hear.

"Hey Honey... I'm home."

EDIT:

I am so close... I am so close to all of the previous joys I have missed dearly. I am so close that sometimes, I almost breathe deep, and sigh out my worries. Then, I go to Today In Iraq, a frequent read, and the fear comes, and the tears come. The tears come because, I don't know where he is...? I have no idea... he could be in Baghdad, Ballad, Kuwait, or... he could be flying over the ocean, sleeping soundly and safely... on his way home. But, I can't lose sight... I can't lose sight of what is truly at stake... I must not... I waste not.

What I feel right now... is the worst feeling. It's as if my veins might explode... this feeling comes within a singular moment. Sometimes it happens everyday... sometimes it's only every three days... sometimes it's on the hour... it's completely fucking random. It's that moment when a person imagines the worst. And, I can't stop it. Only seeing his signature "I'm in uniform" walk off that bus and into my arms... will quiet the beast that beats just beneath my skin, and behind my eyes, enveloping my heart.

"We preserve democracy; we don't practice it."

I just caught a welcome home ceremony on TV from Fort Carson. It's nice to see what I'm in for, and also, it's a sad wake up call. All the news can talk about is how 4ID Soldier's have been told to be ready to return to Iraq next Fall. I've tried so hard not to focus on this fact...

The Army... We are not part of regular society... we can vote... but have little say in what happens with our life. I'm so scared, and a bit excited, to see what changes will be made in the Secretary of Defense sector, as well as Congress.

Will they be beneficial? Or, detrimental. I don't know. We'll see...we will see. At the end of the broadcast, the reporter quotes an old saying, "We preserve democracy; we don't practice it."

Sad, but true.

I just want him home.

my eyes are bleeding

Red, hot, fierce tears.

death and the upcoming

So many things seem difficult... mundane activities... everyday activities. Then, an activity comes around, that may only happen once a year, once every three years, or something that comes sporadically, and pray will ne'er return. I rightfully claim to be emotionally drained. This time of year used to be my favorite. The leaves should be changing; the weather is cooling; my birthday; Halloween; Thanksgiving... so many great events. The leaves aren't changing, the weather is barely cooling, my birthday sucked ass, and who knows how the others will turn out. My husband is on his way home so soon... but, there is so much sadness around me right now making it impossible to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

This weekend I attend the wake and funeral of one Magdalen Gosch, wonderful Grandmother, snappy card player, and one sassy woman. She went peacefully, for which we are all thankful, but these times can't help but be sad. I can't even imagine what my mother-in-law, and her siblings are going through. To lose ones mother... I can't even contemplate without my eyes bubbling and burning with salty tears. I can't imagine this world without my mother.

I sit here, crying through the words. I have to cry now... I can't break down there. I must be the rock, the hard place for which to lean. I need my rest for I will be in Minnesota by tomorrow night.

Also, this evening I bid a misty farewell to a friend that I haven't known long, but will miss and think of often. I am sad I won't be here to help, but I am needed much more elsewhere. I will see you both in a year, and you better call me so that we may ALL get together. It would be so grand to be a party of four... rather than the usual three... or two soon. You will be fine M... don't worry too much (that is a large feat if you manage not to worry a ton), he will be home soon. And B, take care, and thanks for doing what others will not.

Surveys seem so simple, and require so little...
1. One book that's changed your life.
Any VC Andrews novel ever...

2. One book that you have read more than once.
The Chronicles of Narnia

3. One book that you would want on a deserted island?
The ultimate Map Book or something... so I can plot my way home.

4. One book that made you cry.
Home Fires Burning--- Pain staking, Army Wife stories

5. One book that made you laugh.
Eragon

6. One book you wish had been written
I don't understand the question?

7. One book you wish had never been written
Mein Kampf Hitler--- Good one T

8. One book you are currently reading
Eragon

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read.
Mr. Murder- Dean Koontz--- Matt's reading it in Iraq

10. One book you're proud you own
ummmmm... the Dictionay

11. One book from which you must read aloud.
Persuassion- Jane Austen... that was a tough read

still uphill

Every day is the same. Yet, every day I feel different. I feel as though this year passed has aged me double. Lessons I shouldn't have had to learn for years to come have made their presence known. Lessons on love, marriage, life, friendship, and common sense rear their maturity. I feel like a teddy bear must after hours in the rain. He's picked up by one leg, the soft water is squeezed from the inside... leaving him lighter, thinner, worn, and dry; Holes tatter his seems, and his button eyes are scratched or even missing. His faithful possessor still clings to him with love despite his wear and tear. The later part of this Teddy's story has yet to reveal it's ending. I'm unsure how my 25th year will close... it does tonight, and I will officially be in my late-twenties... I do harbor some hesitation to admit I am 26... not until 8:32am thank you very much... but, I have many things for which to be thankful. I am. I am grateful.

And, as always, I am missing a certain someone you all know as Matty.

His proximity suffocates me... His distance closes soon.

Cast Away

Since I am an extremely happening gal, I was livin' it up on my couch last night with the longest movie of all time, Cast Away. It's on TNT three nights in a row. I guess TNT doesn't realize I'm going to be on my couch for those three nights... in a row... and could use a little something else. Anyway, not the point.

Cast Away... what a grand movie. I saw it, of course, years ago when it came out, but now it's entire theme has different implications. Chuck Noland, Tom Hanks' character, tells his best girl, Kelly (played by Helen Hunt), "I'll be right back." Not only that, he gives her a ring... well, we never really find out what is in that box, but one can only assume it is a ring... and that she'd have said, "Yes," if asked the "Big Question." Foreshadowing at its best.

Matt said that to me... in so many words, "It's only a year, and then I'll be back." The year does come upon me shortly, but we are not out of the woods just yet, and I cannot help but apply the scenario.

Anyway, so Chuck stayed alive. He survived countless injuries, thoughts of suicide, insanity (no doubt), solitude, a sore tooth, and surely less than perfect hygiene. He stayed alive to get back to his girl, Kelly. She kept him alive. This mimics the way many Soldiers get married just before leaving for War. So that someone is waiting. I don't know how single Soldiers do it, and this is all part of the reason there is much pressure for officers to get married. So, they have someone at home, and the job isn't everything, among other reasons.

Many Soldiers endure the previously listed hardships... also. But not for 4 years, and the solitude isn't as severe.

Anyway... Chuck returns from 4 years on a deserted island, looking great (especially considering), and Kelly has appeared to have moved on. She's married, has a daughter, and even cut her hair. But, she still loves him... desperately.

Since I am a romantic (or maybe just self-proclaimed tragedy addict), I can apply almost any love story to my own... this one especially. So, naturally, I had horrible dreams last night... just horrible. I won't go into detail, since I don't remember all of it...

but, all I know is I could really use an email, or better yet, a phone call.

And so the waiting game continues.

I'm not a Soldier, but I've got soul

On a night, such as tonight, with clear skies, and mild temperatures, I'm indoors. I'm indoors enjoying the free electricity that pumps out freezing air in the form of air conditioning. Hey, why not... right. I'm enjoying free AC, jamming to my cell phone's MP3 player, and yelling at my dog every 5 minutes to quit eating herself out! It's a rough life, right..?

6 weeks... 6 fucking weeks. Man, why does it still feel so far away? My neighbor across the street says "goodbye" tomorrow night to her husband. It's so sad. I can feel the atmosphere... I can remember the atmosphere. I remember the fear... I can feel the uncertainty. Think you know uncertainty? Trying being one of the wives on this block... or in this life... then complain. You won't... not about your mundane "uncertainties"... no you wouldn't. I can smell the disbelief. "Is this really happening?" "Is this really my life?" It's so surreal. I know. I know. I creeps up on you, the "leaving". It creeps in like the tide... slow, yet aggressive. You ignore it for a time; life continues as though it were "normal". Then, like a wave destroys a sand castle, you've forgotten to breathe in all the love, it's gone. He leaves... and you're left with "everyday". . . every day with its lingering longing, forever draining on the senses. All you feel is empty. I know this.

I remember wishing, "Why can't it be next year?" And, shit, here it is "next year". This time last year my husband was on a 50 day rotation in Fort Irwin, and in a few months would be gone. Now, he will be home in less than 2 months... less than 2 months. It feels so close... as if my fingertips are touching a thread that hangs from his powder blue shirt. I can't cling to it, I can only feel as it tickles... and blows in the hot wind. I can feel the warmth of his smile in his eyes when we speak... he waits to touch my face... I long to snuggle, nose to nose.

Time passes so slowly... and yet, opportunity is lost with one breath.

Fret not... dear friends, your dues shall be paid, and love restored to its proper place. I know my life coming back full circle means yours is interrupted... Roles will reverse once again in a years time.

Good luck.

By any other name...

This would still be a night alone. No fancy metaphors, no confusing Army mumbo jumbo... by any other name... this Wednesday night, may as well be a Monday or Saturday. This night does not deserve it's own name. I still spill over these words... I still beat the keys of my keyboard with moderate efficiency and accuracy... mediocre. This night is mediocre. Melancholy... I still stare at his smile placed so sweetly and delicately on the top of my computer monitor. So fragile that the slightest bump of my rickety desk, and the frame fumbles to the floor... tumbling many times before making it's crash. Today is not different. I still pick it up, wipe it off, kiss his face, and place it back in the same dangerous yet provocative spot. I must be able to see his face in every room. Each day I walk through our house... my head looks left of the bed... I see his face. it the bathroom I brush my teeth, and look at his blue eyes staring back at me. In the kitchen I make the coffee... I open the freezer, slam the door shut, and his picture jiggles on the front. As I watch TV, and he watches with me. As I sit and type to you, dear blogger, he sits with me.
Each day I am faced with a reminder of what's "missing". Not happiness... not love... just the comfort of both. I have them, but they are out of reach. As if I've purchased a great new pair of shoes, but they are on lay-away for an uncertain length of time... but, when the shoes come on, the crooked smile is wiped from my face, and replaced with tears of joy and sore cheeks.

The Army Wife Prayer

Dear Lord,

Give me the greatness of heart to see the difference between duty and his love for me.

Give me understanding that I may know, when duty calls him he must go.

Give me a task to do each day, to fill the time when he's away.

And Lord, when he's in a foreign land, keep him safe in your loving hand.

And Lord, when duty is in the field, please protect him and be his shield.

And Lord, when deployment is so long, please stay with me and keep me strong. Amen.

-- Author:anonymous

How come... when you feel as though you may be out of the woods... something pulls your ass back? Why must a glass of wine (or three) have such an effect? I'm unsure. And, well, shit... I like being certain. I'm uncertain. Uncertainty sucks ass. Merlot on the other hand... well, it tastes fucking good, but causes some natural and unthinkable thoughts. What a combination!? I need a new theme song. I need something less self loathing, and something a bit more gratifying. How about some techno? No, that shit sucks... I can't pretend to like that crap. How about a little R&B or Rap.... no that shit is for the dance club when i'm sweaty, running off and outwitting morons. I need something... shit... I wish I knew what the fuck I needed. I miss my sisters.

My Fucking Hole

So... a hole. I've found, in recent weeks, I can dig a big ass hole. I can throw myself straight into this hole (I keep wanting to type "whole"... what am I, an idiot?), make a bed, and maybe work a bit of a pillow into the dirt that I affectionately call "my fucking hole". Ahh yes... My Fucking Hole... I must use the proper capitalization. My Hole deserves it. So... back to the point... if I ever get there... I sat in my hole, watching Without a Trace, eating Lean Cuisine and Peanut Butter on a spoon (I fell off the wagon), working out (only thing that kept me from sleeping all day), and feeling sorry for myself in between. But, I started weaving a rope. This rope would later help me escape my Hole, but it broke a few times first (it was made from my hair... it's not that strong.. and from the many words of encouragement I am afforded). So, after a few failures, one nasty bump on my ass, and premature balding on one side of my head, I made it out of said Hole. It still follows me around, though... This Fucking Hole probably follows behind many of you. So, I'm armed with a "sexy set of collar bones", and a good feeling I'll be seeing Matthew in about 3 months... give or take a week.
Anyway, it feels good... to be back to the numbness that is this life. Yes, the numbness is comfortable... lonely, yes, but familiar.

My Mama helps a ton... and I thank her a trillion tons. So, here's to my Mama... isn't she gorgeous?

life's little quirks

I've fallen into a particularly disturbing pattern. A pattern of self-pity. I hate it. I really can't even describe it on paper... which is just as disturbing. I don't even want to; it would make it real. It would make this last week real... but this isn't real life. I don't live a "real person's" life. I live a life most don't know about... they hear about it, but don't talk about it. They make their "contributions"... little yellow magnets tacked on their cars... Red Fridays... "thank your husband for his service" comments. I'm still wondering if anyone thinks about those left behind, and their "service". I can see it... the look I get from people who live outside of this war. It's a look full of disbelief, and pity. They don't believe this is actually happening. I remember, I was one of those people. It wasn't "real", then. Now, it's just a nightmare. It's a nightmare that's got 4 months left... it's a nightmare where I can't freaking sleep if not just to dream. It's a fucking nightmare. I just want to dream for a while.

too little too late

What's the appropriate wallowing time? one week? a few days? I hope I don't exceed some set standard. I feel like the "Wild Nights" marathon (on Discovery you freaks) was far too much wallowing yesterday. The 15 days before he got home... a freaking eternity... the 15 days he was home... never long enough... 15 days feels like a small appetizer when you're starving for a 15oz. Ribeye because you haven't eaten all day... or in 8 months. Although, it was grand... let it not be overshadowed by one wife's whining. It was grand. It was nice to jump right back into our "tease/love each other constantly" routine. I can't believe I've lived this long without him... I can't believe I must live longer, without him. I can't believe a lot of things. Most of all... I can't believe myself sometimes.
This is my life, and I live for this life (obviously). I wonder sometimes if he got out of the Army... how I wouldn't be an "Army Wife" anymore... a fact many t-shirts I have shout to any passer-by. What t-shirts am I going to get now?? Crap.
Deployment... so many stages of it. It's impossible to relate if you've never experienced it. Now, thinking about each moment without him, is too impossible... too impossible. Too surreal... Now, I know. Now, I know what every moment feels like when he is away. There are no "good" byes... it was a long, hard, "bad" bye... harder than the first. The reality was there, and now it is here, eating a hole in my stomach lining. It fucking hurts.

Pictures: www.dropshots.com/vmcgraw

sleep does not come easy

I squint my eyes when I hear someone say, "I'm a genuine person," or "I don't care what others think about me." I squint my eyes because I wonder... I wonder does saying this make it believable, in one's own mind? No matter how many times a statement is repeated, it does not make it fact. In my experience, people really do say things to hear themselves talk. Everyone cares what others think, even God. Maybe I (for example) don't care what Jane or Joe passing on the street thinks of my shirt, but I do care how my family views me; what my husband thinks about me; and what my friends think about me. If you are "genuine", the people around know it, and there is no need for it to be vocalized. A genuine person does not need that sort of validation; although, it may be nice. If you're a good person, when you go home at night, you know it.

One more thing... don't give advice if it's unsolicited... please... it's annoying. If I want to cry on your shoulder, that's all i want... is to cry. I don't want my "problems solved"... I just want to cry. Silence helps more than forced comfort or advice.

Anyway, back to attempting to sleep... it's impossible.

Stop kicking me

I walk into my closet... I let my elbows graze his clothes. Chills shoot through my arms, and head straight for the muscle in my chest. Its speed increases for a time, then slows to its normal erratic rhythm. As this day is full of his laundry, I realize I've missed the sweaty socks, stinking PTs, and cologne filled polo shirts. His clothes only smell of dust... 7 months of house dust. My excitement, now polished and fired up, causes a nervous tick in my feet. I pound them with impressive speed on our wood floors. I couldn't thread a needle, if asked. Caffeine is really unnecessary. My metabolism is increased each time I think of 8 days... tomorrow, 7 days.

It really is unreal how quickly time has passed. These 25 years and some odd months have gone quickly; why shouldn't this year? Yea... 7.5 months. One would think time might stop. Groundhog day, everyday... for both he and myself. When he goes back his battalion will already be planning their return to "the states" (seriously, what American calls I" 'the states"). Only 4.5 months left. Wow... think of the respect we shall both have for one another. It's already increased two-fold... even more so when this year of waiting is over.

I kick myself for my uncertainty. When I'm weak... when I weep. When sorrow over comes me, and I've fallen on my knees. I'm harder on myself than any other person could be...
Tonight my thoughts tonight are broken and disconnected. I'll stop here.

PS 'shroom... I'm gonna channel me some energy in about 8 days give or take an hour.

too much too late

I'm not sure how many times I'm expected to say... but this is my life. I've chosen this life. It is mine and I belong to my life, and my choices. I've never made excuses... okay, I shouldn't say never... but concerning this life, no excuses. Yes, I'm under pressure; yes, it is difficult; yes, I get down... but in no way do I use this as a reason to act like an asshole. I've never said, "you need to be nice to me because my husband is off fighting a war..." Never, have I brought my situation down on anyone but myself. Yet, some of those around me (and some that do not surround me as often as I'd like) seem to think I live in a glass house. Some seem to think I might break if one were to peer inside my windows. It's far easier to ignore me than ask of my well-being. So, the real truth is skirted around. One tip-toes so as not to disturb the delicate balance that are my emotions. Because, afterall, I am that fragile. I do understand, to some extent, the easy silence. I take advantage of this easy silence. I am not too busy to call someone... I just choose to not call. I know it's not in my best interest (in the long run), but in the short time it's less stressing to avoid condescending conversation, and listen to the opposite end of a telephone line, dead. The difference between myself and those I speak of? Well, I admit my unwillingness. Through my faults, I am stronger. In the end... I will know. I will know who was there, who wasn't there, and who is still there, and I will know who claimed to be, but wore a mask. I will know. There's no need for anyone to say the words. I know. Those I thought would be there... those I needed to be there, aren't. I find comfort in the oddest of places... in most unexpected places. I am thankful. Repeat after me... I am strong. I am strong. I am stronger. I am not perfect, but I am stronger.

You've only had barely enough, to hang on.

I'm a pissy bitch today. So far, I've cursed 4 people under my breath. I think this is getting to me... 12 days. SHIT! There are far too many hours in this day, and the next... and, I'm certain, the day after. Can I sleep through the next week, please. Thanks, God... you're a pal.

Let's discuss the nature of shitty friends... okay, this is how it goes...
Girl 1 meets Girl 2
Girls 1 & 2 become best friends
Girl 1 introduces Girl 2 to boy 0 (zero)
Girl falls for boy 0 (lowercase, by the way)
Girl 1 continues to try and be Girl 2's best friend
Friend status is reduced to "good".
Girl 2 claims to "be there for" Girl 1
Girl 1 has doubts
Girl 1 and boy 0 have a fight
Girl 2 chooses boy 0 over Girl 1 because of said fight
Girl 1 keeps her mouth shut about how she never sees Girl 2 anymore
The "good" in friends is removed and Girls 1 & 2 are merely "friends"
Girl 1 confronts Girl 2 about her continued patience with boy 0
Girl 2 gets angry
Girl 1 and Girl 2 exchange nasty emails for a few days
Girl 2 says a lot of mean things to Girl 1 about her husband's deployment
Girl 1 decides she has to let it go or fight forever
Girl 2 never apologizes
Girl 1 forgets about it
Girl 1 & 2 and Girl 3 make plans to hang out
Girl 2 ditches Girl 1 & 3 for boy 0
Girl 1 & 3 are furious
Weeks pass
Friend status is now at an "acquaintance" level.
Girl 2 asks Girl 1 to drive 70 miles to hang out with her and Girl 3
Girl 1 decides she only wants ot hang out with Girl 3
before Girl 1 has a chance to tell Girl 2, Girl 2 has already revoked her offer to hang out with boy 0
Girl 1 decides her and Girl 2 are no longer friends.

So, yea... that's pretty much how it happened. Stupid friends. Stupid boy 0! I hate him.
Anyway... back to my own reality... I have to shave my dog, for the second time this summer. It's so flipping hot. I'm going to go be pissy elsewhere.

"We own a Va JJ- we're entitled." -Eban!

I've been trying to keep myself busy as the nerves under my skin become tighter and tighter with excitement. I've taken up quite a few projects to pass the time: furniture refurbishing, scrapbooking, living room furniture rearranging, closet organizing, mowing the lawn twice a week (instead of once... it's really straight), dancing, drinking (not a healthy "project", by the way), running (a healthy project... in case you didn't know), and I have had an increased interest in music recently. I'm shaving my dog's hair tomorrow. Fun stuff. So, as if I needed extra incentive to look forward to whom I'm missing... I get a call from my sweet mother-in-law... she's booked a room for Matt and I in Ocean City, MD... two nights... on a beach... half naked... free. I can't believe it! It's all I can think about (and my R&R present that happens to be a digital camera)! Anyway... I see east sunrises, west sunsets, bikinis, picnics, and a ton of... well...

Ocean City, MD

Guest: "Hi, room service?"
Employee: "Yes, ma'am?"
Guest: "Would you mind sending up a good bottle of champagne, please?"
Employee: "Yes, ma'am, right away."
Guest: "Oh, and some strawberries too, please."
Employee: "No problem."
Guest: "And some whip cream."
Employee: "Yes, ma'am (chuckles)."
Guest: "In... ah... a can...?"
Employee: "I'll see if we have that variety."
Guest: "Thanks. Could you leave it outside the door? I don't want to get dressed."
Guest #2 (in the back ground): "Don't tell him that!"
Employee: "Not a problem, ma'am (more chuckling)."

I love this melting pot

This 4th of July I find myself more thankful I live in the United States of America than in previous years. Maybe it's because I am aware now of the many sacrifices made by people in our country (not just military), or because with age I've gained respect, appreciation, and knowledge. Mostly, I think, it's because my husband takes his job so seriously, and I'm very proud of him. I've never known a man (or woman) who respected his/her position in society more than Matthew. It's probably why, after our first date, I said to my mom, "I'm going to marry him." I must confess I also feel a sense of pride as I wait here at home for him. Each week I pack up a box full of junk and goodies to send off to him... letters twice a week, and a phone call three times a month. I feel my own independence more than ever. It's nice to know you can live without someone, but choose otherwise.
Have a great Independence Day.

INSIDE A SOLDIER

Inside a soldier
There's a soul that keeps living,
A bravery that never quits,
A madness that is never shown.

Inside a soldier,
There's something that never quits,
A country to risk,
And a hope it will end.

Inside a soldier,
There is something that makes it worth while,
Something that makes them able to do more than others,
Work harder than others,
A flame that shines just a little brighter,
A flame that never goes out.

Inside a soldier,
There is a thump,
That constantly beats,
And the sound it makes,
Isn't only a thump,
It means a life,
It means a hero.

Molly Knowles (age 11)

slender strings tie us together

"We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden."

Well, yes, of course... we always desire riches out of reach. For example, Matthew... sex... compassion... companionship... what's missing between ellipses... yes, of course... what is missing, is what we lack, is what we wait for... is what we want.

I've been going over and over Dashboard Confessional's new album "Dusk and Summer." I can't get it off my lips. Some lyrics are so simple, and so soft. "Stolen"... track 5... "You... have ... stolen... my ... heart..." Sang so sweetly, as it should be because it is a delicate matter...

I wonder... and I wander about the thinkings of my head. I wonder, did I give him a good enough goodbye? Could it ever be sufficient? Was my stone face just, agreeable? Or savory, as a star visible in daylight? Did he think about how he "held my eyes"? Did he recognize the message in them? This goodbye will be more extravagant. I will cry, because I know it will be real. Last time, I didn't buy it. I thought maybe he'd call later and say, "George changed his mind." But, he didn't, and Matthew was left with a colorless farewell. This time will be different. It will supersede all previous farewells. It will be remembered.

I will make our 15 days matter... I will hold him closer... I will push myself against him harder. I will, I will, I will tell him "I love you" as long as my mouth will make the words. Then, I will say it with my eyes. I will hold his hand. I will make a memory of every line in his eyes. I will. I will touch his face. I will cradle my face in his hands. I will stroke his hair. I will wear flats, and rest my head on his chest... I will make a memory of his heart beat. I will make a memory of his smell. I will wear his smell to bed.

We will be remembered.