I miss you...

So after my 2 hour nap late this afternoon, I journeyed down to Kaitlynn's (as if, it were soooo far; all of 15 minutes) for a movie, greasy popcorn, "Party in a box" and the amazing and fantastic combo of Hagen Daaz (hmm, sp?) Coffee ice cream and Heath bar! yummm... We couldn't find any good movies on "On Demand" or Pay-Per view so we settled on "Serendipity". This movie is (of course) super cute, classic chick-flick. Those of you who are not familiar with the "Party in a box", feast your eyes on this lil' beauty:

(I apologize for the crappy picture quality, but I really was not going to spend too much time searching for a better picture. You get the idea.)

I am fairly certain this is the CHEAPEST way to put on a buzz people! Invest it's good times. But please... Please under NO circumstances tell my Granny. She's be highly offended that I was bothering to drink "wine" from a "box"-- of all things. {insert disgusted look, here} I love my granny but hell, I just can't hang with her Chianti. Oiy.. join the new school Granny... Shiraz. Zinfandel. Blushes in general are just easier to drink... but sadly not as hearty as a good Pinot Noir. I digress....

I must force myself to focus on the topic at hand. The title of this blog:
Dear Husband,

God, I miss you. Tonight I miss you so much my heart aches.

Really, people I intended on writing some thing that would tug at the heart strings at the most cynical of all of us... but really that's all I got. I suppose, the only other thing I could honestly add to my "heart aching" is that I am sorry. I'm sorry that for the past year it's been easier (for me) to concentrate on what you were doing wrong than to admit how much I missed you. I am sorry that it's been easier to demand space and explain why that was better for me than to embrace the blessing you gave me every night and every morning; you allowed me to sleep soundly and begin my days without fear. Without fear that while I was muddling through the mundane bullshit of my days you survived another night in the desert, this was the gift in the phone call that began (just about) every day of (almost) the last year. You allowed me to sleep peacefully being confident that you had, yet again, completed another horribly, unimaginable day in the summer heat of the Middle East. Thank you. These were gifts. I took them for granted and that is not fair. You and I have talked before about how easy it is for people (anyone, and all of us) to call home (or a friend) and bitch about the negative in our lives, but conversely, we hardly call people to say "Hey, I survived the day. While uneventful and fairly boring it wasn't bad. I have nothing to complain about." Somehow this part of my excuse in demanding space. Demanding "emotional distance." Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I'm not retracting my earlier statement that for me the emotional distance is what forces a heart to grow fonder. For me that is true. But under these just unimaginable, agonizing, heartbreaking circumstances I am thankful for all the phone calls. I am thankful for the peaceful nights' rest and the assured ways I've begun my days and your phone calls which provided both.

I miss you.