Thursday, February 25, 2010

Wings Of Hope by Kelly Rossi

I'm the one you walk past in Wal-Mart smelling a man's brand of deodorant and buying the same brand of shower gel. I'm trying to remember his smell.
I'm the one you see in the back of the church, a tear running down my face as the congregation prays for our country and our troops. He's one of them.
I'm the one you beep at for sitting at a green light. I was looking at the flag blowing in the breeze at the corner gas station and thinking of all it means to me, to him, and to our life together.
I’m the one with a trunk full of flat rate boxes and customs forms, I know my local postal workers by name. The package I send him every pay day makes him seem close to me.
I'm the one with a funny looking decal in the back windshield of my car, you wonder where it came from and if it might mean something. He gave it to me before he left, it's his MOS and we are proud.
I'm the one you walk past at work everyday; you notice the pin on my shirt but never bother to ask why I wear it. It's the crest of the unit he serves with; I’ll wear it everyday until he comes back home.
I'm the one you walk past as I completely fall apart and lose it because I left my cell phone at home. You might think “it's just a phone”, but it's the life line of my marriage and it was his day to call.
I'm the one you have labeled as quiet or reserved, the one who is never really part of anything, you don't know I wear the far - a- way look because my heart boarded the plane with his.
I'm the one that hears "tell him I say thanks, that I’m praying for him" at least once a day, and I always tell him for you, but I can't help but think, who prays for me as I continue to do my best to serve him.
I'm the one that nods right along as you say that you understand or that it's better now with the internet. I know that it is, but what you don't know is that nothing will ever replace the joy of receiving a letter or that the webcams and instant messenger just remind me of all the million little things about him that I love and miss.
I'm the one that is so used to saying I’m fine, to being numb, to missing him, that I can't remember any other way to be. I wonder at times if the ‘fine’ he tells me is the same ‘fine’ that I seem to be these days.
I’m the one that hates Friday and Saturday nights as I sit alone at home. I’m in a new town and don’t know anyone to hang out with. The weekends remind me my best friend isn’t here to show me around and make the best of a new place together.
I’m the one that eats more frozen dinners now because I don’t want to cook for just myself. The one who six months ago couldn’t picture myself eating out alone; but have since taken it to an art-form, no longer even needing a book or headphones to displace the emptiness of a nice restaurant.
I’m the one that is as strong and patriotic as the hero I married, not because I stand on the frontlines but because I stay behind stoking the home-fires for months on end with a quiet resolve not unlike the one that personifies him.
I'm the one that tells an ACU teddy bear or the moon goodnight that I love you, because it makes me feel less lonely and because I hope he somehow hears or feels it.
I'm the one that turns the porch light on at sunset to light his way back home, to me, to our life together, to the love and the good times we once shared.
I'm the wife of an American Solider; I’m the hope that lives within him after storm clouded days. The freedom from war that gives wings to his heart, may they reach across the miles and bind our hearts together against all that we must face in this world.

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