Letters for Muscles
February 17
My Dearest Muscles,
You left this morning. I suppose this has been a long time coming, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier. It feels foolish to be so sad. After all, two months is nothing in terms of deployment. Other women surly lose their husbands for much longer than this… still, my heart aches thinking you’ll be away from me. Is it weak, or is it simply selfish?
We haven’t been apart for this long yet. I know this isn’t really anything new for you. You’ve got many tours under your belt, but those were all before I met you. After we were together, I was incredibly lucky, perhaps you could even say I was spoiled. You didn’t get called for anything. I don’t know why I’m acting like you’ll be gone forever.
Maybe it’s because we’ve only had a few days to deal with this. It’s like the wound is still fresh. You’re a great leader, and I’m so proud of you. I know that you’ll succeed at whatever it is you’re setting out to do—something noble and brave, I’m sure.
It’s that I depend on you so much. I barely even make it through your work days. Seems rather cheesy, I know. I just depend on you for so many things. The reality is that deep down I’ve got my fears just like everyone else. I’ve been uncertain my whole life. I don’t know why this feeling seems so foreign. I guess I’ll just never get used to you being gone.
I feel like a fool whining about it when things could be much, much worse. I might be wrong, but everyone seems to understand. Larson’s given me some great advice, and he assured me that none of this was as silly or dramatic as I thought. He said it’s very normal to feel this way because I love you so much. You’re my husband, of course I miss you when you aren’t around. There’d be something wrong if I didn’t.
Dean, you’re so good at what you do. You make me proud every single day. I can’t wait for you to come back and hear all of your stories (well, maybe not all of them, haha).
Chandler and I have already talked about taking care of things. We talked about getting all your bills sorted, about your “collection,” I’ve already started writing this letter… I’ll write every single day. That’s a promise.
Nevertheless, I’m glad we left on good terms—no arguments, just hugs. Letting you go was so difficult.
My countdown begins today. I can’t wait to see you.
Yours Lovingly,
Blondie
You left this morning. I suppose this has been a long time coming, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier. It feels foolish to be so sad. After all, two months is nothing in terms of deployment. Other women surly lose their husbands for much longer than this… still, my heart aches thinking you’ll be away from me. Is it weak, or is it simply selfish?
We haven’t been apart for this long yet. I know this isn’t really anything new for you. You’ve got many tours under your belt, but those were all before I met you. After we were together, I was incredibly lucky, perhaps you could even say I was spoiled. You didn’t get called for anything. I don’t know why I’m acting like you’ll be gone forever.
Maybe it’s because we’ve only had a few days to deal with this. It’s like the wound is still fresh. You’re a great leader, and I’m so proud of you. I know that you’ll succeed at whatever it is you’re setting out to do—something noble and brave, I’m sure.
It’s that I depend on you so much. I barely even make it through your work days. Seems rather cheesy, I know. I just depend on you for so many things. The reality is that deep down I’ve got my fears just like everyone else. I’ve been uncertain my whole life. I don’t know why this feeling seems so foreign. I guess I’ll just never get used to you being gone.
I feel like a fool whining about it when things could be much, much worse. I might be wrong, but everyone seems to understand. Larson’s given me some great advice, and he assured me that none of this was as silly or dramatic as I thought. He said it’s very normal to feel this way because I love you so much. You’re my husband, of course I miss you when you aren’t around. There’d be something wrong if I didn’t.
Dean, you’re so good at what you do. You make me proud every single day. I can’t wait for you to come back and hear all of your stories (well, maybe not all of them, haha).
Chandler and I have already talked about taking care of things. We talked about getting all your bills sorted, about your “collection,” I’ve already started writing this letter… I’ll write every single day. That’s a promise.
Nevertheless, I’m glad we left on good terms—no arguments, just hugs. Letting you go was so difficult.
My countdown begins today. I can’t wait to see you.
Yours Lovingly,
Blondie