Keeping it real during reunification
Well, it’s been over a month now that Mr. Hooah! hit the front door, and believe it or not, I am not ready to pack his duffel bag already! I was a little worried about how well the reunification would go, and what bumps in the road we would hit. It has been relatively smooth going. We are very blessed to see most things eye-to-eye, and the matters in which we don’t are usually small enough to look over in the long run.
My big concern was how it would be to have him home after several months of my running the show solo. It’s hard sharing the driver’s seat when you have had to live in hyper-drive mode for months. I was very used to late nights, early mornings, doing all of the finances, keeping up the house, pampering the Princess, and running the high schooler everywhere. All day, every day (except Sundays), and all alone. I didn’t realize that I had shut off a small area of myself in order to cope with the daily grind. It’s a part of me that did easily reopen once I had my husband home.
The first week was a lot like a honeymoon. It was ideal and cozy. We could hold hands, touch one another, and steal a quick kiss anytime we wanted. It was an easy period of time because it still felt to both of us that he was home on a visit. Now the quirks are coming out, but I think we are handling them all quite well. I do credit the fact that I lived everyday, while he was gone, as if he were coming home tomorrow. He was gone physically, but he was still the husband and father in this home. I know my husband well enough to function for both of us for a period of time. I know what he would say and think in certain situations, and I acted with that knowledge accordingly.
Sometime around Christmas, Bryan came to me with a concerned look. “Honey, where are my clothes?” I looked at him kind of puzzled and said “I’ve put them in your drawers and hung them on your side of the closet.” He was perplexed that I had assigned him drawer space and not informed him of its location. He was very relieved (I think that there was a fleeting moment of fear that I had burned his Army PT clothes that he likes to wear around the house). No, I just washed them and put them away. I had a hard time even getting him to surrender his laundry. I think he was afraid that it would wind up smelling like lavender or jasmine (which it has, by the way). When I was finally able to convince him that I seriously do not mind doing his laundry with mine and Emma’s, I began to realize that he had not fully unpacked yet. Our closet is stacked with tightly rolled clothing. Everything neatly ordered, neatly rolled and ready for inspection.
I am learning to overlook the locker in my closet, and he is willing to live with shirts that smell like lavender (well sorta anyway). It’s one of those quirks that makes you smile and shake your head. My husband had to chapter out so he could properly rehab his hip and still have a shot at commissioning, but a part of his heart and mind are still in the Army.
The Army as a way of life, as a form of identity that I didn’t understand or “get” before he joined. I understood a little through Mike’s experiences. I could tell when I saw him after BCT and AIT that he was no longer just a young man, but he had become a soldier. My husband spent 6 solid months in Tradoc, and I am telling you all that he is a soldier now. It creeps into your blood, it settles in your bones (and sometimes even breaks them!), and it captures your heart and mind.
The essence of who my husband is has not changed. His faith and core values dovetail well with the military, but I can see the changes more in measures he takes and his perceptions of civilian life. We’ll have to wait and see where this path leads us. I am here, my seat belt is firmly buckled, and my willingness to travel down an unknown road is in check. I am ready to roll.
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